


I Sing the Body Electric

by sometimesimeow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Sex, Bottom Severus Snape, Boypussy, Choking, Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Intercrural Sex, Intersex, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, Sexual Violence, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Top Bill Weasley, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2020-09-28 20:03:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 43,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesimeow/pseuds/sometimesimeow
Summary: Bill Weasley was a reminder of everything Severus Snape loathed—the popular Gryffindor who everybody adored. But instead of contributing to his torture as his predecessors did before him, Bill offers Severus the attention and affection he desperately craved as a child and denies wanting as an adult. Plagued by insecurities and self-loathing for his past treacheries and present deformities, Severus cannot bring himself to refuse the boy’s advances. The boy wears down his defenses through his charm and makes Severus happier than he’s ever been. Underneath Bill’s perfect demeanor, however, is a sea of depravity and possession. Severus finds himself doing anything to keep him, no matter how far it pushes him over the edge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love Severus Snape. I love Bill Weasley. And I love Lana del Rey. I wanted to write for the Harry Potter fandom for a while, and after a lot of outlining and planning, I came out with this storyline. Like with most of my stories, I used a “partial alternate universe,” where the intention is that non-fans could read this and still understand what is going on. 
> 
> This story is set in 1989-1990, roughly seven years after Severus Snape first started teaching. I think because of Alan Rickman’s iconic performance, people often forget how young Severus Snape was in the HP series, but canonically, Severus was 21 when he started working at Hogwarts, and in this story, he would be approximately 28/29. Bill Weasley is 17/18 here and is in his final year at Hogwarts.

When cleaning his caldrons, Severus used hands to wash and wands to dry. He had a giant vat he used to soak his metal cauldrons and cups. He didn’t like relying on elves—the morbidity of their meekness never sat well with him, and his household magic was limited. He could cast the clearest cleaning charm and still have spoons covered in smut.

Despite his slovenly appearance, Severus maintained his dungeon domain with far less cavalier than his predecessor. Professor Slughorn was a packrat and hoarder who desperately clung to the reputation of his students over actual substance. When Severus accepted the position as potion master, he vowed actually to teach his students something, and that began with structure. He cleaned his caldrons through a daily regime of name-brand dishwasher soap—another secret he loathed to share with his peers, while his notes were filed conveniently in a cabinet he kept on the side of his bed. Severus long-handed all his notes and even prepared them two weeks ahead of class. He owned two bookshelves, divided by purpose and pleasure, wizarding almanacs and muggle lore. Snape loathed any reminder of his father’s heritage, but he could never part from his library, bringing his favorites from his hobble of a house on Spinner’s End. It seemed, without the wonders of magic, the wizarding world had no palette for the arts. There was no Whitman or Shakespearean equivalent here. Literature was dull, stories relegated to lore passed on from generation to generation, and there was almost so much redundancy Snape could withstand before he decided a trip to a bookstore was in order. His collection was a secret he chose to bare alone, and he guarded it with the zeal he used with all reminders of his muggle life—his big brand detergents, his dishwashing aids, his battery-powered lamps because he didn’t feel the urge to retrieve his wand every time a candle went out. There was an ongoing rumor that there was “too much magic” for electricity to work in Hogwarts. Severus learned a long time ago that such propaganda only served to further the wizarding world’s agenda. They feared their weaknesses. Maths and sciences were locked in vaults of never could be’s and never will’s. They could utilize cars and elevators, but not batteries? A calculator? Severus sneered at their pride. No matter—he had no intention of sharing his mundanities if they did not. Let them look down on him, for he had the secrets of an invisible universe.

Despite his many tools, the one thing Severus did not own was a mirror. His last one broke while he was experimenting with a rather generous amount of turmeric juice and cat’s spleen, and he never bothered to replace it. He doubted he ever would. He hated the reminder of his monstrosity—his foolishness—and if he never had a reason to acknowledge it, he could almost pretend _that night _never occurred.

— Almost, Severus thought as he undid his robes to prepare for his bath. He placed his dressings on a hanger and moved onto his shirt. It was far too big on him, as commented by Madam Pomphrey time and time again. She wanted to perform another check-up. “You should worry about your health more, Severus. Your condition requires…attention.” He tried to snap at her for silence. How was he supposed to enjoy a new wardrobe when his wares were drenched continuously in slime and spill? Why should he count his pence and pennies when he was too busy counting his income between his life here, and that of the muggle realm? Not all of them have a weighty inheritance to fall back upon. Not all of them had doting fathers who were willing to sell a limb for their happiness.

Severus shook his head as he snapped off another button. He wasn’t going to dwell today. The…_doctors _warned him about this nonsense, allowing his thoughts to fester would only harm him in the end. The war was over. Everyone had died, both undeserving or not. Severus was proof that life was not fair.

As the potions master worked on his drawers, he paused. His alarms began to ring as three of his orbs manifested in grey—a spell he mastered to warn him that smoke was present outside his quarters. Given his perchance for experimentation, Severus learned to ire on the side of caution. He kept a never-ending network of spells active to detect smoke, toxins, and other noxious materials in case they left his quarters. In this case, there was a trail outside his rooms.

Severus quickly grabbed his robe—not a formal one he used for teaching, but casual silk for the lounge. He only acquired it to avoid revealing his flesh in case of emergency and never before had he been so grateful for his decision.

Severus dashed outside to find the source of the smoke. He did not have to stray far, for as soon as he was a few feet out of his dwellings, the perpetrator stood in plain sight. Severus, not even thirty yet, had not mastered his emotions in the eloquent way he would in future years. Instead of a glare cold enough to chill the bones, the Slytherin’s head gaped, his eyes widened, and he stood, waiting for the correct response to come to him. Because never, in his six years of teaching, had Severus ever believed he would have to reprimand William Weasley for _smoking_.

William Weasley, known as Bill to his family and friends, was not a typical student. Exceptional was far more fitting for a child of his caliber. He was the sort of student Professor Slughorn would have given an arm and leg to collect into his little club of sycophants, and at the same time, was the sort of student Severus imagined would have refused for the sole reason that he “had other priorities.” He was a leader; tutoring classmates of all ages, and being their ever wise counsel. He even kept an eye out for those outside his house. All of them fawned over him like deers to pudding. No one was surprised when he became head boy—he was always the first choice, and Severus watched in wonder as Bill took points from all houses, fair and equal to those who do harm and good.

Bill was made to be envied, and the only shame to his stride was his pauper roots. Yet, instead of deterring his admirers, it made the wealthier more resilient. He had seen many women offer gifts for his favor, a pureblood noble or two offering him their summer cottages, a wealthy half-blood with a yacht in Greece. Severus never experienced such luxury. He should have hated Bill. He hated students for less.

Except Bill Weasley was Severus’ first.

Severus would rather cut his tongue out with the talons of harpies before he ever admitted it, but a part of him was _enamored _with the boy. He would watch Bill in his laboratory, pulling his hair up in a loose bun as he mixed and melted his ingredients with a pleasant grin, laughing as a strand threatened to be painted green. There were moments where Bill's sharp wit and wise eyes excited him, and other times where he silently watched the student's excitement at being able to devour a new puzzle when they arrived in his advanced arithmancy courses.

Seven years ago, when Severus was twenty-one, he had been given the position of Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Punishment, Severus assumed, for his sins. Perhaps caution, for Dumbledore never cared to let snakes stray too far from his sight. Newly baptized with the blood of dared to and war, Severus was a wreck. The older students—students he attended Hogwarts with, were still being educated by Slughorn as a kindness—or rather a nod to Severus’ inexperience.

Meanwhile, Severus was thrust into the teaching helm for the upcoming class of 1982. Bill Weasley was a part of this class. He was sweet, wide-eyed, and eager to be of service to the new professor. He took notes meticulously, and despite Severus’ sneers and snark, never failed to be proper, even attributing his success to him.

“You’re harder on us than the other professors—well, not McGonagall. But still, I like it.” Young, preteen Bill then babbled on about how he appreciated Snape's methods and how he often used ingredients that cost less than what the textbook stated on Severus' advice. “I like to practice over winter break.” Then he paused. “With supervision, of course! My mother adored the recipe you made for healing warts.”

Severus flushed then. He never told anyone the origin of that potion—the prank his damned peers once cast upon him long-buried underneath his mind. Instead, he nodded at Bill and told him that he should get to his next class—his chest burning in delight as the Gryffindor beamed at him.

On his second year under Severus’ tutelage, he asked if it was alright if he never bought the book for his class. An odd question and Severus was prepared to dismiss his request when he noted that Snape “didn’t teach by the book.” And then, a look in his eyes appeared, so rich with cleverness that Severus wondered if he wasn’t a hawk in disguise.

“My brother will be entering Hogwarts next year. If possible, I want the money that goes into books to go to him.” He smiled with an effortless amount of charm that should not be possible for a twelve-year-old boy, and told Professor Snape, “I recorded your lessons and compared them to the book. They’re different—not by a lot, but enough that I know I like yours better.”

Severus wondered if he was always so vain, that such flattery could so easily spell him to compliance. Bill grinned when he had said yes, and Severus had done his best not to swoon.

Now, Bill was seventeen, almost eighteen and looked every bit the adult that Severus wished he was when he first started teaching at the school. He was tall and thin, but there was a swell in his arms and legs that indicated a fit form. The boy was renowned in the amateur dueling leagues and had been known to play a spot of Quidditch in his free time despite not being on the team. There was a discussion of him joining competitions in his future. His hair nearly reached his shoulders—just short enough to appease school regulations. Inwardly, Severus knew he would have ignored it regardless.

Dumbledore never had a problem with his professors playing favorites, and neither would Severus.

Severus shook his head from such thoughts. This slight was harder to ignore than a fashion misdemeanor. “What do you think you are doing?” Severus asked; he kept his voice low for a menacing effect. He would lose all authority in a shriek.

Bill dared to smile.

“I’m sorry, is the smell bothering you, professor? I wasn’t aware anyone was here.”

Severus wanted to snap that wasn’t the problem. Instead, he said, “This part of the dungeons is my quarters. There’s a spell to detect smoke throughout the area.”

Bill stared in curiosity. He glanced around the walls, trying to find the source of magic. Then, he caught an orb hanging on the tops of the ceilings. “Ah, how clever. I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you make that yourself?”

Severus bristled, he needed to work himself up if he was to ignore the praise that was bound to follow whenever Bill spoke. He was a master manipulator, though hardly out of ill intent.

“Brilliant,” Bill chuckled. “Potions, defense against the dark arts, charms, I wonder if there’s anything you can’t do.”

Severus tried to cool the swelling in his chest. “Flattery will do nothing for you, Mr. Weasley.”

“I’m sorry,” Bill apologized. “I usually have a fag in the corridors but Filch almost caught me last time, so I decided to come here. I thought the dorms were on the opposite side.” He shook his head, disappointed about his assessment—not that he got caught. “It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t. Fifty Points from Gryffindor.” Then, as an afterthought that should have been a priority. “Smoking is prohibited.”

“I’m of age,” Bill noted. This was another trait of Bill—he never argued, merely stated facts that worked against the disagreed.

“You’re a student.” Severus tried to muster up more force. “And I will be confiscating your supply.”

Bill dared to take another drag. He did not put it out. “This is the only one I have on hand.”

“You’re a liar.” He knew from his father’s habit that there should be a few more on him, probably hoping to manage another if time permitted. “I’ll take another ten points each time you refuse.”

Bill chuckled. “On the life of my mother, I’m not lying. I have a limited supply, so I try to ration them.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “And how did you come across them?” Bill was a pure-blood—another reason Severus wished to hate him but only made him admire him more for his complete disregard for such conventions. They would have called him a blood traitor, but the Death Easters would have tripped over themselves trying to recruit him. “Wizards don’t smoke cigarettes,” Snape told him as he waited for an answer. “They smoke pipes.”

“I got them from a shop.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “In the muggle world?”

“Well, I wasn’t about to pay the prices here. Did you know a pack at Diagon’s Alley could cost as much as five gallons? And yet they’re barely two knuts there.” Bill sighed dramatically at the injustice. Then, he smiled when he saw how poorly his joke sat. “My father wished to go on holiday several months ago to a highly popularized muggle region. I decided to grab a pack.”

Severus continued to glare.

“Or three. My parents thought they were candles.”

Severus was aware there was the novelty of such wears. He practically subsidized his education as a student selling knick-knacks from the muggle world. People loved the exoticism of the muggle culture. Severus never understood it.

“So, you, a wizard, decided that on some holiday to the muggle world, the first thing you would do is buy a carton of smokes?”

“Well, the first time, I confiscated them from a muggleborn,” Bill replied with no hint of irony. There was another grin, and Severus became heated as he saw the mockery in his gaze. “It’s a bad habit but relaxing. I like the sensation of having them pressed into my mouth.” He leaned closer to Severus. “Have you ever tried them?”

Severus took a step back. “No, and you shouldn’t either. They’re disgusting.” He said this while watching Bill’s burn from the heat. The embers made his eyes blaze and kissed his skin like fireflies. Severus was entranced.

“On a cold night, they’re particularly lovely. Sometimes, the smoke fills my mouth like a kiss, and I can taste it on my tongue for hours.” There was a quiet inhale of smoke. “It keeps my lips from feeling lonely.”

Severus shivered as his student inhaled the smoke. He wondered how long this habit had developed. Beginners coughed, just a little, and so do intermediate users. Bill smoked like the cigarette was a second limb. “Those things will kill you,” Severus iterated, years of conditioning ingrained to him by his muggle education.

Bill smiled, his nonchalance never wavering. He took another drag. “I’ve heard.”

Severus had enough of Bill’s games. He wondered what had become of his sweet student, and instead took a step forward to remove the ghastly object. Severus’ fingers reached up to the taller student’s face and swiped it from his lips. His fingers ended up brushing against Bill’s mouth, and though dry, there was an enviable softness that pressed against his tips and made him shiver.

And there were the images—filthy, unmistakable images that could blind a nun and whore at once. Severus had always been a skilled legilimens, and his control may even surpass Dumbledore, but there were times when there were thoughts so intense, so vividly displayed and willingly offered that Severus could not help but watch. Bound to a seat of pervasion as the other’s taped open his eyes for the show.

Bill was not hiding his thoughts from anyone.

Severus watched as Bill pushed his partner onto his crimson bedsheets, a lithe figure bouncing on top of fabric fire with his cock following suit. His cock was large and aching, a dribble of precum wetted the sheets alongside sweat from candle heat. It was a blur as Bill licked up the wetness between the other man’s thighs and kissed his cock with adoration. The other person trembled and screamed, ran his thin fingers into Bill’s hair, and curled his toes. Snape tried to leave those wicked thoughts, but only succeeded in moving towards another position, where Bill had his partner on his hands and knees like a bitch, panting for a cock so deep, it hit his womb.

And if the person in Bill’s fantasies had Severus’ black hair spilled against the red silk, or if his person had skin so pale, a single bite looked like a bruise as those would on Severus own frail body—

“Filthy boy!” Severus thought. Unbeknownst to him, he had uttered the words below his breath and not silent as he had hoped. The cigarette light was not enough to reveal the Weasley’s surprised expression, nor was the smoke so thick to had Severus’ inflamed skin.

The Weasley was a test to his character. Severus was an adult, and Bill’s damning thoughts should not have spurred such a reaction in him. Severus smothered the cigarette against the wall and threw it on the ground for the elves to clean. “Tomorrow, I expect you to deliver all of your packs to me. And I suggest you reconsider your choices if you intend on spending what limited funds you have on these contrivances,” he reminded, crueler than he ever intended to use on Bill. Severus wouldn’t let the boy think he was victorious in any way.

When there was no response, Severus paused. Then, he made the mistake of looking up.

Bill was staring at him. But there was no loathing or spite. He looked like a hawk, a hawk dressed up like a lion with the sun’s mane. Severus stumbled backward, trying to escape, but before he could fall, Bill grabbed his wrists. He was strong, far stronger than Severus had ever been as a student. The man was constantly attending the dueling grounds, and there was more muscle than bone underneath his shirts.

“Professor, are you alright? You’re red as a fever.” He drew closer. “Perhaps these dungeons are draftier than you’d like to admit. I know a good heating spell if you need one.”

Severus turned away at once. He could not let this boy read him anymore. He was not a book for pleasure. “That is none of your concern.”

Bill smiled at him. “It’s habit for me to worry. You’re so frail. Half the time I watch you, I wonder if you’re to blow over.”

How could Severus ever endear himself to such a horrid person? Severus was right about Gryffindors. All of them were so cruel, bullies by nature, desperate to prove themselves as heroes and braggarts. He hated when someone referred to his slightness—he knew what he looked like. Small and skinny, an easy target for those with arrows. “Is this what you do when no one’s watching? What you think you can get away with now that you’re an adult?” Severus glared at him. “I should have known. Gryffindors are all alike.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t stand to let anyone think of you the way I have.”

Severus wouldn’t have his excuses; he tried to pull back. Bill’s grip was firm but almost tender. His thumb started to rub Severus’ wrist, and Severus couldn’t hold back the sound that came from his throat. Bill’s eyes got darker. Severus cursed his body.

“You look pale. Come, let’s go inside and I’ll charm the room. Warm this body of yours for the night.”

The offer sounded sincere, but Severus loathed to imagine what would happen if he let this young man into his home. What Bill might do to him. What Severus might let him. The images returned to him, and at once, Severus pulled back. He swore never to let anyone play privy to his secrets and fought to release himself from this lion’s grasp. “Let go. This is your final warning.” Snape started to struggle, and perhaps the violence of his movements alerted Bill to his propriety. He let go, but not before offering his condolences.

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I treasure your wisdom, Professor.”

Snape glared. “I will not have your mockery. A hundred—’

“I’m not mocking you,” Bill interrupted, and that, at least, sounded sincere. “I’ve always been honest about how I feel.”

Bill’s eyes trailed down Severus’, and for the first time since he put it on, Severus became shamefully aware of how thin it was. “For instance, I can honestly say that I prefer you in this robe to those of the classroom.” Despite what Bill believed, Severus’ walls were blessed with heating spells and warmth of small fires. Under Bill’s gaze, he felt hotter.

Severus turned red. “You cannot say those things to me.”

“You don’t wish me to mock you, and you don’t like my honesty. At this rate, all we’ll have are potion ingredients.”

“Then, that will suffice.”

“For our roles?” Bill asked, and then there’s that darkness again. A tone of plain unhappiness that bordered anger. Snape recognized the emotion, but not coming from the person before him. “I am not a child, professor. I can smoke if I wish and say what I want. You may be my teacher, but in a few months time, you’ll just be another man.”

“I’ve known you since you were suffering eleven-year-old, and now you’re an insufferable seventeen-year-old.” Bill frowned, and it was the first lost of composure he experienced all evening. Severus looked away. “I will return the points if you hand me the rest of your cigarettes and swear not to touch another until graduation. Be grateful I’m feeling merciful.”

“If you were truly merciful, you’d take off that robe.”

A thousand pixies could have bowed at his feet and a hundred boggarts swimming in the air, and none would ever make him quite as stunned as Bill Weasley’s shamelessness. The young man showed no indication of wrongdoing on his face and if anything, displayed a nonchalance that shocked Severus’ core.

Bill took a step forward. “And if you invite me inside, I’ll return the favor.”

“Are you mad—?”

In a single movement, Severus found himself pressed against the wall. Bill had not touched him, but instead guided him against the brick with the force of his step. Severus tried to look away, but Bill, with his soft touch, guided his gaze upwards.

“I’m not eleven anymore,” Bill corrected. The Head Boy took Severus’ hand, the one that had been holding his cigarette and brushed it down Severus’ waist. “This is muggle wear, isn’t it? Wizards mock them for breeding like rats, but how could they not. It’s like they’ve modeled their lives around getting fucked.”

Severus’s breathing grew harsh at the accusation. Never had he heard his muggle side being referred to so…crudely. “Thin fabrics that paint the form. Tools used to bind their lovers. Cigarettes and cars, cuffs, and chocolate.” Severus could see the images coming back to him; he did his best to will them away, but the energy invoked in doing so took away his strength to fight off Bill’s advances.

Finally, he bit his lip and returned his gaze defiantly, “If you yearn for muggle invention so much, I have a vast collection of literature for your use. Otherwise, I can’t help the whining of a child.”

Bill’s reaction was satisfying. The same looked occurred whenever one was interrupted during the casting of a particularly difficult spell, and Severus was glad the curse had been lifted from him.

“This joke has gone on long enough. I am going to bed.” He pushed Bill out of the way and made his way back to his bedroom. Before he entered, he turned back with a sneer. “And Mr. Weasley?”

Bill looked up.

“You should return to your dorms. It is past your bedtime.”

Severus then slammed the door behind him. Once inside the protection of his home, he exhaled to the heavens and thanked Merlin for his remaining sanity. Severus could not contain himself any longer. He stripped himself out of his robe and dropped his drawers on the ground. He leaned against the wall and nervously, with the trepidation of trembling doe, moved his hands downward. Once safe, he gripped his cock, twitching for attention. But the other hand was far more ambitious and traveled further down to his dripping cunt. The smell of cigarettes still drenched on his fingers. He closed his eyes, ashamed at having to relegate to its pleasure, the secret shame he ignored for so long was now aching for touch. Severus couldn’t help himself any longer. His fingers started on the clit, and he saw stars. The pure, unadulterated pleasure that he had not felt in years. With his first shield down, the others fell in kind. His fingers started playing with his clit before fucking his hole with abandon. He could hear the squelching noises fill the room, evidence of his pleasure surrounding him. He didn’t care. It felt too good to stop. He leaned against the wall as he started working harder and faster. By the end of the night, he would be sore with use, and the last thought in his mind would be of his red-haired student.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past mistakes get revealed.

When Severus was a child, he thought the world started and ended with magic. For him, Hogwarts and the Wizarding World was an escape from the mornings woken up by a wailing woman, the afternoons filled with broken dishes and fallen lamps, the nights of chipped nails scratching the drywall and fists pressing into flesh. It wasn’t until Severus was older that he realized that magic was as limited as everything else. Magic wasn’t all-powerful; it couldn’t solve all his problems. It couldn’t fix his mother’s illness; in fact, it made it worse. Severus supposed he should give his father some credit in that regard because his old man figured it out before anyone else. Severus learned that the people running the ministry were just as lost and foolish as those in the muggle realm. And when he fought in the war, he saw that people bled and died the same, too. The wizarding world was as broken as its muggle counterpart; only they were better at denial. 

If there were anything that would lead to the fall of the Wizarding World, it would not be the wars of its nations, but the hubris of its people. As a student, Severus understood magic only as an innate power that was his, and his alone. He thought he was strong enough to do anything. He could cast curses without a word, and force charms out of his fingers. He could do things no other student in his year or older could even dream of accomplishing. 

Back then, Severus Snape was fifteen, high off enchantments and potions and charms. Objectively, Severus knew magic couldn’t do everything. It couldn’t pull chocolates out of midair or fill a glass of water without a source. It couldn’t bring the dead back to life or exorcise the demons from a person’s head. It couldn’t make someone fall in or out of love—people were foolish enough to that on their own.

But Severus thought that maybe, just maybe, it could make him beautiful.

As an adult, the loathing Severus felt whenever he took a bath was sometimes so great, he shook. He should have known, Severus thought. He should have known that what he asked for could not be done; not without great consequence. If everyone could perform such magic, the world would have been filled with dolls and paintings, instead of the variations of quirks he saw on the streets. But Severus was foolish, and that night, he had snuck into the Room of Requirements with his cauldron and wand in hand. He brought out the copied pages of the forbidden texts, the hymns of Venus, and the scriptures of Hathor; he smuggled in herbs and mosses from the sealed corners of the greenhouses. He researched, he planned, and by the will of Merlin, he was going to achieve his hearts’ desire.

He should have known better.

Magic never gave what it didn’t get back. Severus had nothing to offer when he cast those spells. He uttered the words recklessly and prayed defiantly to the goddesses who laughed at his request. For Severus’ insolence, he was punished. The magic took ahold of his body and deformed it to reflect his soul. When Severus was found the morning after, it was too late to do anything. Magic had limits; Severus was reminded for the second time. Madame Pomphrey offered her comforts as McGonagall and Dumbledore explained the permanence of his disfigurement. Severus did not react—he was in a trance. The professors’ voices were muted in the background as he stared in the mirror. His eyes were darker but pleasantly so. His hair did not shine with the same amount of grease. His nose was still crooked, but there was distinguished sharpness that added an appeal to an otherwise ugly feature. But below his robes was an open gash, underseeing his diminished cock. The gods had granted his wish, and they took what they wanted in return. 

For the last time in his life, Severus cried in front of someone.

***

When morning came, Severus spent the first hour staring at the ceiling. It was wet. Long ago, the dungeons were spelled to capture the lake spills in the stones and return it to the wild waters from whence it came. This happened at sundown, and so the water rested on an invisible until it was removed. Every morning for seven years, Severus woke up to a roof full of teardrops. His eyes soaked in the image of the overcast and told him he was in the water while his body, wrapped in wools, reminded him that he wasn’t. Severus hated the dysphoria of dryness and drowning, but he couldn’t complain to the headmaster because he hated rejection more. He didn’t want to hear Dumbledore tell him no, in the same manner he told Severus every time he requested a new position in the academy or dared venture outside his rights as a prisoner.

Eventually, Severus gathered up the strength to leave his bed. Once on his feet, his limbs lifted with a newfound airiness he’d never experienced before. For years, his body was heavy with the water that never touched him. He wondered what happened to cause this change; perhaps the mermaid choirs were practicing a new song, and its echoes were resonating through the walls. The students hated when that happened; his former classmates included. They said it reminded them of the banshees of the castle or the wailing of ghosts. But Severus loved their singing. It was haunting and beautiful and made him dream the sweetest dreams. It was when they were silent that his nightmares came to light. If it weren’t for the wetness, he would have tried to move his quarters deeper into the central dungeons, where the singing could be felt through the floors. Instead, he pressed his ear into the walls for the hope of whisper.

Whatever caused Severus the peace, he was thankful because it eased his routine. He turned off the lights with a wave of his hand so it could not reflect his form and worked on memory. He knew where his robes were. He left his books in the same place. His wand was by the nightstand. Everything went by smoothly, and for a second, the darkness was so comforting he thought about what a world would be like without sight or sun. Maybe he would enjoy the water if he couldn’t see it. Perhaps he would finally get around to buying that mirror.

Once Severus was finished with everything, he paused at the door. He took a step closer and touched the iron. It was smooth and cool. Severus pressed his forehead and breathed in the dampened rust and antiquated poison. On his second inhale, he noticed a second smell.

_Smoke_.

***

Breakfast was an affair in red. Bill was on fire, and the whole world turned to admire the sun sitting amongst them. No matter where he sat, he was the center of the school. His hair burned brighter than his brothers, and he wore his uniform like a prince with the sigil of the golden lion resting on his chest. Severus didn’t want to look at him. He didn’t want to think about last night. He didn’t want to smell the smoke on his robes or taste the tobacco on his fingers.

“Are you feeling well, Severus?” McGonagall asked him. “Your cheeks are flushed.”

Severus turned away. “I’m fine.”

“Might be a fever,” Professor Sprout noted, having overheard their interaction. “It’s the season for the flames. I’ve been growing a field’s worth of winter roots in preparation for all the young ones.”

Severus ignored them both. “You should mind your students then. I’m not a child.”

McGonagall held back a scoff, but Sprout snorted proudly. “You’re a babe compared to us old hags.” She laughed while McGonagall offered up one of her half-smiles. “In the right light, I’d ask you to sit with the rest of the class.”

Severus wasn’t amused. A surge of bitterness churned in him as he glared over at Dumbledore. The headmaster was engaged in a conversation with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Severus wondered why he bothered to get to know anything, knowing full well they would be gone the coming year.

It was his fault Severus was so young. He could have waited until Severus was older to employ him within these ancient walls, but he wanted the snake within his basket. A pet. A weapon. Albus Dumbledore was a callous man, hiding behind the mask of kind instruction and gentle antiquity. In his youth, Severus accused him of being such a fiend. Whereas the other Slytherins saw him as a beguiled, old fool past his prime, Severus was scared of him. He wished he could pretend otherwise, but Severus never had a talent for disguise, only concealment. It was a weakness he loathed.

Because a skilled predator could always find the prey that hides, and when Severus felt a gaze on his form, he knew he was caught. Severus looked up from his plate.

Bill was watching him.

Ah, and again he was too gorgeous to look away. The man, no, the child, could have stabbed him with a hundred swords and his blood would only enrich his flesh. Severus hated every time he thought so but it was undeniable. Touched by the morning sun, uniform handed down by his father and altered by his mother to mimic the current style, the first button of his shirt undone. He was both proper, and a rebel in the making and Severus couldn’t deny his eyes the treat. 

Severus never made a hand-me-down look so good. His fellow Gryffindors were struggling for his attention, exaggerating their entertainment in hopes of capturing his interest, but Bill only had eyes for him. If Severus were honest with himself, he would say it felt good to be admired. But Severus was hardly an honest man. He was about to turn away when Bill raised his hand.

People often forget that wands were conductors of magic, not a source. People from around the globe were utilizing wandless magic far before the first oak was cut down for them. It made magic more comfortable to use, in the same fashion that cars made it easier to travel, but they weren’t necessary. That being said, the ability to use wandless magic was an art. Every wizard eventually learned how to light candles and tip cups, but to do greater was the sign of a great and powerful wizard.

Bill brought two fingers to his lips and made a gesture of smoking a cigarette. Severus wanted to laugh, but he held his humor down and added a scoff to the boy’s attention. He planned to deny the boy the pleasure of his amusement, for he knew that was what Bill craved. But Bill was not deterred. He liked challenges. He liked the pride of beating them. Bill grinned, and Severus recognized too late that his actions only encouraged the boy’s advances. This was their inside joke now. Last night was a moment no one else could take from them. Severus wondered if he ever shared something as intimate with another human being. 

Severus didn’t have time to dwell on the thought when Bill’s fingers spread to make a V-shape. The young man placed his tongue between the fingers and gave a slow, obscene lick. Severus’ blood ran cold, but his body was hot. Before he could retreat, Bill’s tongue released a whisper of smoke that passed through the finger gates and traveled to the elevated table where Severus sat. The smoke tickled Severus’ calves before traveling up his thighs.

“Ah!” Severus’ hands flew to his mouth as a few peers turned towards him.

“Are you alright, Severus?” McGonagall asked, concerned embedded on her features. 

Severus couldn’t bear to uncover his lips. He nodded and looked away. The smoke kissed his cunt before spreading his lips. Severus could feel his entire body heat up. His skin was turning red. His pussy was wet. He wanted to storm off and find relief, but the smoke was relentless. It dug deep until it hit spot Severus never touched before. His knee jolted and hit the table.

“Severus!” McGonagall was past worried. She kept her voice low to avoid alarming the students, but Severus couldn’t say a word. His face was almost on the table. Drool escaped his lips, captured by fingers he could not afford to remove.

Severus pressed his thighs together as the smoke fucked into him. There was more chatter amongst the room now. People were noticing his reaction, and he did his best to calm down. There were spells to counter this…_this thing_. Severus stood up, but the smoke reacted in kind. It spread through him, fucking his cunt open until he was stumbling down the stairs.

“Severus!” People were swarming towards him. Severus wanted to sob. He did the only thing he could do, and that was look up into the perpetrator’s eyes. Years after the war, Severus never stepped out of line. He made his little passive aggressions and had his tantrums, but he was good under Dumbledore’s all-seeing watch. He hadn’t experimented with so much as a first-year charm, because he couldn’t afford to make a mistake he couldn’t fix.

_This_ was what Severus had been avoiding for years.

Bill’s eyes were sin embodied. Brilliant blue screens that displayed filth beyond imagination. This was different from last night. Back then, Severus read his mind on pure chance; the calamity of the scenes was unintentional. Today, there was a purpose on Bill’s mind. Severus’ fantasies filled with the images of taking his student’s cock raw and his cunt spilling out cum. He came on these thoughts. As his vision darkened, the last thing he saw was Bill’s wand pointed at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is on the shorter side, which is the price to pay for weekly chapters and my sanity. I forgot to mention in the last chapter, but I imagined a "young" Severus to look a little like Gabriel Marquis. I mean, he's obviously better looking than the canon character (given that he's a male model), but he has the aesthetic I want for this story, and so I found a way to justify this appearance. 
> 
> What do you think of this casting? You're going to see a lot of my HP headcanons in this story, and my own questions about the wizarding world start peeking through. I really love working in a fantasy setting (my original fantasy story will be posted soon, too) so I'm hoping this is good practice.


	3. Chapter 3

There were days when Eileen Snape refused to get out of bed.

She wasn’t sleeping. She just stared at a wall and allowed the mud in her mind to muddle her gaze. On those days, Severus’ father would send him up to their bedroom with a plate of food—something light and easy to swallow but heavy enough to hide the taste of anything metallic. Oatmeal and apples, or cereal with too much sugar. Tobias never went up himself, because Eileen never ate anything her husband made on those days. Sometimes she refused to move for hours, and Severus fed her by the spoonful. Severus’ arms often got tired when he did this because he had to hold her up and feed her at the same time. When she was finished eating, Severus brought the plates down and washed them. His father would have gone to work by then, and it’d be his responsibility to do the housework. Severus was particular about the way the house looked because if it were less than perfect, his father would find a reason to complain, and if his mother heard his complaints, there'd be a fight. These days, his father let him stay home instead of going to school, which Severus liked because he hated school. If it were a better day—not a good day, but a better than a bad day, Eileen’s mind would open up for him. She’d let him crawl into her bed so that they could dream together. Some of the dreams were dark and dreary, and others were fantastical and magnificent. No matter what they were magical. Severus’ skin tickled with his mother’s magic, and it made her feel close even when her mind wasn’t there. Sometimes, they fell asleep like with the magic still on their skin, and it was nice. It was peaceful, and Severus always ended up wishing she could sleep forever.

***

The feeling of waking up in the Hospital Wing was familiar, but none of the experiences were pleasant. Severus jumped up from his bed as soon as his eyes drank in the sight of white sheets, and his nose inhaled the fumes of sickness and health. Whether it was a homeopathic resort or a hospital bed, the scent of wellness was nauseating. Severus attempted to escape, only to be held back by a chain of cotton. The hospital sheets did more than warm his body; they covered his complete barrenness from the cold.

Severus flushed scarlet at his shame. He searched the premises for any additional visitors and wasn’t nearly relieved enough for his anger to subside. Madame Pomphrey chose this moment to make her appearance.

“Where are my clothes!” Severus shrieked. 

The matron of the hospital wing was neither shocked nor offended by the professor’s outrage.

“I assure you; you have nothing to scream about,” Madame Pomphrey responded snippily. “I undressed you. There was no one present, but you and I. Your…_condition _is still a secret between us.”

“That’s not the question!” Severus hissed. “Why am I naked!” Again, he searched for another wayward party—a new teacher figuring out the layout or a stray student with a stuffy nose—anything could go wrong at this point.

“You fainted at breakfast.” She frowned. “It caused quite a ruckus.”

“That doesn’t explain—”

“—And the last time you came to me was over two months ago, and even then, Minerva and I had to drag you like cats with mouse heads! I decided this would be a good of a time as any.”

“You-you—_violate _me?”

The healer scoffed at him. “I did no such thing! I checked on your health, but I did not _investigate _any further than what you have expressed being comfortable with.” She glared at his lower regions, and Severus, despite having the protection of the sheet, tightened up his legs. “You should take my recommendation and visit a specialist. Your health is more fragile than you think.”

“There’s no _specialist _for my condition,” Severus snapped. Pomphrey’s eyes soften, and Severus’ fisted the bedsheets. He knew that look. _He hated that look_. He declared a long time ago; he’d rather be a loathed tyrant than a pitiful prince and today was no exception.

Severus gathered up his pride and turned his nose at the woman. “Where are my robes?”

Madam Pomphrey stared at him before handing him his black uniform. Before he could take it from her, she pulled it back.

“I’m going to recommend a day’s worth of bed rest.”

Severus glared at the woman. “I am not ill.”

“Your blood is weak, and I can tell you haven’t been eating as you should, nor getting the rest you need.” Madam Pomphrey’s glared at him. “You’ve ignored your health for far too long and look at the result—fainting in the middle of a feast? Why I expect such irresponsibility from the students, but a professor! You need to set an example from the students.”

“And what example am I setting when I miss my classes? I have three today—one which is for the fifth years, and it will be on your head if they fail their OWLS.”

“Both Professor Sprout and Flitwick have been kind enough to offer their presence as a substitute. Now get back in bed.”

Severus knew the woman would not listen to reason. He got on the cot as requested, and afterward, a goblet was shoved in his face.

“Something to get that blood of yours breathing again.”

Severus grimaced but emptied the cup. She nodded her satisfaction, and it was only then she released his robe back into his possession. Severus hastily put it on.

“You should be grateful your conditions aren’t worst. Thank goodness for Mr. Weasley’s quick thinking.”

Severus’ blood ran cold. “What?”

Madam Pomphrey nodded; she only knew so much about her colleague but understood the man hated being indebted. If he knew it was his student that saved him from a concussion, perhaps he would put more precedent on his health.

“Just as you were about to faint, Mr. Weasley cast a levitation charm on your body. It kept you from hitting the floor and given the spot you were headed…” Madam Pomphrey shook her head. “Needless to say, you owe him your gratitude.”

Severus gripped his robe together tighter; as the thought of his student encouraged his modesty. He opened his mouth to say something, but when the doors opened, the devil’s name was spoken.

“Mr. Weasley, are you here to check on your professor?”

Severus couldn’t look at him. He heard the boy laugh and admitted to the accusation. “I couldn’t stop myself from worrying.”

“Oh, I understand. I just told him what you did. It’s so good to see such quick wand work. You’ve made my job much easier,” Pomphrey praised.

“You have my brothers to thank for that — six of them, and a little sister who is just as much as a handful. My mother cried the day I turned seventeen. Now, she had another hand lifting boys off stoves and casting seeking charms when they get out of sight.”

Madam Pomphrey laughed softly. She turned to Severus, who did his best to look the other way. He heard her sigh. “I’ve been trying to get this one in bed for ages. I know he’s been waiting for me to leave so he could shuffle back to work.”

Against Severus’ better judgment, he looked up. Bill was staring at him, and though his smile was genuine, the look in his eyes was villainous with wicked intent. The seventh-year boy turned to the nurse and asked for a moment alone with him. “Mr. Weasley, I wouldn't recommend that.”

“Are you worried about his health, Madam?” There was a way he whispered the title with such heat that it had the old woman blushing. She quickly composed herself. Severus was envious. He assumed that after years of dealing with troublemakers and thrill seekers hoping to flirt themselves to a discreet bandage taught her how to gather her wits quite easily.

“I am worried about yours,” she retorted. “He’s still your professor. And speaking from experience, you’d have an easier time growing bones in a giant than convincing him to stay.”   
Bill’s smile tightened, and Severus could feel the tension on his face. Bill doesn’t like being reminded of his status; Severus noted. He would tuck that piece of information away for later use.

Nonetheless, Bill was not deterred. He leaned in close. He whispered something low that was privy to the nurse’s wisdom, and Severus watched in horror as the woman’s expression transformed from reluctant to grateful allowance.

She even giggled like some wily French maid. “I’ll leave it to your hands, then.”

“Thank you.” Madam Pomphrey left to attend her pharmacy. The Potions Master was tempted to follow, or at least beg her to stay. Instead, his pride willed him to say in the bed where the hawk circled.

“Do you know why I am here, Professor?”

Severus clicked his tongue. “For my gratitude on your heroism,” Severus sneered. “Or perhaps to give the apology I rightfully deserve for your vicious prank this morning!’”

“It was not a prank.” Bill stepped closer, but then held himself back upon Severus’ wince. He sighed. “You were ignoring me, and I wanted to talk about the night we shared.”

Severus’ face burned at the phrasing. “We did _not_‘ share a night’! Do not make it sound so…_intimate_.” The older man tried to get up, but Bill moved forward. He trapped Severus between his arms as his palms touched the cot. Severus turned away, but Bill followed.

“Look at me, professor.”

Snape refused.

“Look. At. Me.”

When Severus refused a second time, Bill’s fingers dug into the sheets. He took a step back. Severus jumped when he felt the boy’s forehead rest on his shoulders. “You keep treating me like a child. How could you blame me for acting out?”

Bill’s touch scorched his skin. Magic released from his skin like sparks, and Severus swore he could see his freckles glow like the embers in coals. Severus could feel the gates falling, felt the folded layers of the mind come undone. Bill was opening himself up. He wanted Severus to seek his secrets. Severus knew the freedom of having one’s mind come undone. A part of him—the little boy who wanted nothing more than to make his mother’s nights dreamless wanted to give that to him. This was the boy in Severus who wanted to be wanted, and it is the same boy who would clutch his mother’s face in his tiny fingers and look through the tumbling, upside-down house of his mother’s mind, hoping to build it back again.

Severus pulled away, but not from Bill. Their eyes met, and once again, he was made familiar with the fantasies the boy yearned to come to life. The pictures were not beautiful, but they were so raw, they were real. Bill’s favorite dream was of Severus on his student’s desk, legs spread so that Bill could fit between them. His engorged cock was pumping inside Severus and the professor could feel every roll of Bill’s hips, every wet inch inside him. Severus’ arms were wrapped around his student; his nails dug into his skin where moon-shaped crescents would lay as a reminder. “Let me, professor…” Bill begged, but it was the breathless whisper of a man. And Severus didn’t know what for, but his body burned when his mirror image pulled the boy’s face down for a kiss.

Severus pulled away from the dream immediately. His legs shook when he tried to stand up, before stumbling into the student’s arms. For the second time that day, Bill caught him. Severus shut his eyes, but even so, he couldn’t let go of this boy. Fear choked him as he recalled the visions. How? He wondered. How could this child know about him? He kept wrecking his mind for an explanation, so much so that he couldn’t hear Madam Pomphrey come back into the room, yelling at him to lay back down.

“I believe Professor Snape would be more inclined towards bedrest if he were in his own room,” Bill told her. “I’ll help him there.”

Madam Pomphrey was hesitant. “Are you sure, Mr. Weasley? You’ll miss your classes.”

“I’m at the top of my classes,” Bill told her. He was smiling, but there was an edge to his tone that said he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Severus realized that Bill could have whisked him into the Gryffindor dorms and fucked him in front of the fireplace and no one would have stopped him because he had this ability to make anything he did look right. It was his confidence. If Severus had this boy’s confidence, he could have ruled the world.

Madam Pomphrey was a woman of severity, but she became soft under Bill’s insistence. He took Severus out of the room without any argument and held onto him on the dungeons. The stairs were kind enough to give them an easy passage. Severus bided his time until he was firmly within walking distance to his quarters. Once he was sure his body was able, Severus lashed out at his student. He pushed the boy as far as he could against the wall and took out his wand from his bottom pocket.

Bill had the audacity to be surprised by the violence. “Professor?”

Snape’s arm shook. “Don’t-don’t you dare—” He tried to think of any reason that couldn’t justify him attacking a student that wouldn’t result in his own humiliation. He was better than a jester in green, dancing on his tiptoes so that they can laugh at him. Severus gripped his wand tighter. He straightened his stance. He steadied his arm and took a step closer to Bill to show he was not afraid of a brat whose britches were made big by the spells of his fellow students.   
“What do you know?” Severus asked him. “How did you find out?”

The concern that draped over Bill’s features stripped to a piercing stare followed by an uneasy grin. “I don’t think we should have this conversation here.” He gestured towards the door leading into Severus’ quarters. “Let’s talk inside.”

“I’m not letting you into my room,” Severus snapped.

“I can’t answer that question out here.”

Severus tried not to tremble. “Why not?”

“Because you’ll hate me if anyone overhears,” Bill confessed. “And I’ll sleep in a bed of Devil’s Snare before I’ll do anything to make you hate me.” 

Severus ached as the words he longed to hear echoed within the walls. He couldn’t stop his arm from faltering, and he didn’t stop Bill from stepping forward.

“_Etiam parietes arcanorum soli conscii timebantur,” _Bill reminded him. The richness in his voice that made the proverbs sing like a spell. “If anyone asks, I only wanted to make sure you went to bed.”

If anyone asked, Severus would deny everything with a guiltless heart. His student strong-armed his entrance to his quarters, and if he had tried to stop him, it would only lead to an injurious result. The two of them went inside, and to Severus’ relief, the student didn’t try anything. Severus didn’t dare to change to more comfortable attire while the young man was still within proximity, but Bill was already taking off his blazer. He had no problem getting comfortable in his professor’s presence. Just as Severus thought he wouldn’t regret this foolishness, the Gryffindor smirked.

“So, I finally get to have you to myself,” Bill announced as he walked over to Severus’ personal library. His fingers trailed past the magical titles and onto the second bookshelf of muggle literature. “Is this the collection you were talking about?”

Severus subconsciously checked for the security of clothes. He needed to make sure everything was buttoned up and tightened. “Don’t start, Mr. Weasley. I am not here for pleasantries; you’re here to tell me what you know.”

“I know a lot more than most my age.”

“What exactly?” Severus wouldn’t dare reveal anything on his own. There was a good chance that Bill carried such fantasies on his own. A long shot, but perhaps Bill’s desires were merely coincidental with Severus’ circumstances.

Bill picked a random book from the shelf and flipped through them. “These look like hymns.” 

“They’re poems.” 

“Muggles have these, too?”

“Yes.” Severus fought the urge to grab it out of the student’s hands, like an only child made to share for the first time. The sense of possession was something he’d never thought he’d feel about his property. Even his father had never touched his items, though that was a bit of an unspoken rule in his house. His old man didn’t like to share either. “They’re for personal enjoyment.”

“I guess we’re not all that different.” Bill flipped a page as his eyes scanned the contents. “Though I must say I enjoy these poems far more.”

Before Severus could ask why Bill started to recite a passage. The hairs on Severus’ back pricked up as he realized precisely which author he had picked up.

“_These are contain’d in sex as parts of itself and justifications of itself. Without shame, the man I like knows and avows the deliciousness of his sex_…”

The book flew out of Bill’s hand and headed straight to the other room. Severus’ hand didn’t even reach for his wand—his natural magic, that which ran through the green of his veins reacted first.

Bill looked in the direction of the fallen object, stunned as it left him, before chuckling at Severus’ flustered expressions. “I’m sorry, did I stumble upon a secret?” Bill chuckled. “I heard muggles had forbidden books, books some people are too explicit to read. I would have never guessed someone as proper as you, professor, would partake—”

“Those books are not forbidden!” Severus snapped as he defended himself. He would be painted as some fiend. “That man is a common staple in muggle literature. He’s a renowned poet and highly respected and any man with any semblance of education would have read him before he was out of school!”

Severus didn’t know what reaction he expected, but the stunned expression was not it.

“Muggle children read this work?”

Severus flushed. “Depending on their advancement, yes.” Severus didn’t mention that the man was an American, and offered during superior courses, but there was no point. It was better for Bill to believe it to be a staple piece of literature, less he thought something improper.

Bill seemed to struggle for a moment before shaking his head. “Best I don’t say a word,” Severus heard him mutter. Severus almost pushed him to do so, but then Bill asked him a question that took Severus back.

“Was your father the one who introduced you to this work?”

Severus felt like choking. It took all his energy not to scream. “What do you know about my father?”

Bill must have noticed his reaction because he hesitated. Severus refused to let this brat back away. He walked forward to confront him. “Mr. Weasley, what do you know about me?”

For the first time, Bill looked away. “I know…your mother was a pureblood. I, I saw her name in the plaques. She was a captain of the school’s Gobstone’s team.”

“How did you know she was my mother?”

Bill tried to smile. “You have a striking resemblance.”

The words chilled Severus, who had such a phrase so many times before. “And my father?”

“He was a muggle. I looked it up, and I saw the marriage announcement—”

“You looked it up? Why?”

“Professor, I don’t mean to offend you—”

“And yet here we are,” Severus sneered at him. “You, barging into my quarters like a moneylender, hoping to shake me down for my wits! Are you happy? Are you satisfied, Mr. Weasley? Should I lie down so you may have my kneecaps?”

“I don’t want to make you unhappy,” Bill denied. “I wanted to learn more about you.” 

“Why? What about me has enriched this madness? Is this some pureblood’s attempt to slum it with their inferiors without going as far as to resort to muggleborns?” Severus was livid, and he hated how vividly his shame showed.

“That’s not it!” Bill sounded so sincere, but Severus would hear nothing of it. James Potter seemed sincere when he saved him from that night, and the man went on to steal his best friend from his grasp. Severus asked him what else he knew because he needed to see the extent of this obsession.

Bill paused from his defense. Then, he boldly looked Severus in the eye. This time, Severus knew Bill was doing it on purpose. He was forcing his thoughts onto Severus, and not even bothering to hide his intention. Not hoping to make the same mistake for a third time that day, Severus looked away. He willed his magic to settle down to avoid any further accidents when Bill spoke.

“I always thought it was strange.”

Severus returned his gaze but made sure to hold himself back. “What?” 

“How you don’t look me in the eye sometimes,” Bill noted. “You look everyone in the eye, but me less frequently. It’s like you’re afraid of what you see if you do.”

Severus’s lip curled unpleasantly. “Stop changing the subject.”

“I’m not,” Bill denied. He leaned against the shelf he was admiring. “You wanted me to tell you how much I know. Well, here’s a suspicion. You’re a _legilimens_, aren’t you?”

Severus tried to keep his composure. But he didn’t deny it.

“It’s a useful gift, and you’re no doubt a powerful user given how hard it is for you not to look into my head. For years, my classmates and I wondered how you could always tell what we were thinking, how you always caught my brothers’ pranks, how you just knew who the troublemakers were…”

“I’m registered,” Severus announced, hoping to squash any plans of blackmail. 

“That’s not the point,” Bill said. “You could see my thoughts from the start, couldn’t you? How I felt about you?”

“No,” Severus denied.

“Please don’t insult me with a lie, professor.”

“I’m not lying.” Severus tried to quash the voice in his head repeating Bill’s reasoning. ‘_You look everyone in the eye, but me less frequently_.’ True enough, Bill rarely ever received his prodding, and Severus had justified it for many years, claiming that the one was never worth his intrusion. He was a good student and hardly worth his concern.

A near sorrow fell upon Bill’s face, but it wa soons replaced with resolved. “I’ve wanted you since I was eleven,” Bill confessed. “And you’re all I’ve dreamed about yesterday. You know that.” He moved forward so that their bodies were almost touching.

Severus couldn’t breathe. “You need to leave.”

“Not yet,” Bill told him. He looked down on Severus, and their eyes met again, but this time, Severus made sure to refuse his mind. “You wanted me to spill your secrets, well we have the whole day. I’ve tried to learn so much about you, and with every rumor, my skin buzzes with billywig venom, and I lose my breath.”

Severus pushed him away. “Leave!”

A madness befell Bill when Severus touched him. Bill grabbed him and forced their lips together. Severus had almost no experience underneath another’s touch, and he was too helpless to react properly. His mouth gasped. Bill’s tongue entered him, and Severus’ body ached to give in. The taste of another man was one he was unfamiliar with, but the touch of another human being made him hungry for more. It was not until Bill grabbed his waist that Severus’ lucidity returned. He tried to push the boy away, but he was too strong. Then, with all his might, he bit his student’s lip until it bled. Bill was resilient to the pain, but even he had to part when iron filled their mouths.

Severus covered his mouth as soon as he was free. Bill was far more revealing. Severus watched as his student touched his mouth to observe the blood. Severus’s entire body shivered when he licked his lips. The red looked like molted rubies on his skin, and Severus shouldn’t want it so much. This boy was no better than any other man, and yet Severus _ached_.

Bill didn’t make any more moves towards him. He turned his back on Severus, and just when Severus thought it was over, he bent down to pick up the book on the floor. “Since you’ve offered so kindly, I’m going to borrow this, professor.”

Bill didn’t wait for a response. He left Severus alone with his aching body and the taste of Bill’s blood on his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Etiam parietes arcanorum soli conscii timebantur is Latin for “Even the walls, the only sharers of secrets, were feared" and is a quote from Roman historian Ammianus Marcellinus when describing his country under the emperor Constantius II. 
> 
> So my last newest story (The Lifespan of the Sickle Ibis) took a lot of time to write and school and work got really crazy for me so now I'm really behind on everything--writing, school, life. I'm probably always going to be 2-3 days late per chapter at this point, but I'm going to try and keep it within the same week. If not, then I'm going to end up prioritizing the stories with more active engagement. I haven't gotten to the point where I need to take a hiatus so that's good, but I will have to rearrange a few things. That's life. 
> 
> Either way, we're going to get a purely Bill perspective next chapter which I will work on right after posting this, and we get to see some of some of Charlie! I actually worked on an outline for a Charlie/Sev story a while back so I'm wondering if I should add some scenes with them together as a homage to the story that probably won't ever be written.


	4. Chapter 4

“What happened to your lip?”

Bill looked up from his book to see his brother staring at him. He feigned a heavy fall to avoid his classes, and most were quite accommodating. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor even offered to waive the next day’s assignment for him. Charlie was concerned, but he didn’t look too curious about the answer. Bill appreciated that about his brother—he didn’t push on matters that didn’t affect him.

“I ran into a cat in the halls,” Bill told him. “When I tried to find its home, it reacted poorly.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Must have been a pretty big cat. It looks like you got bitten by a kneazle.”

Bill chuckled. “Yes, it was a handful.” He pressed on the injury thoughtfully. “Rather adorable, though. It even let me pet it a few times before attacking.”

“Hopefully, it’s owner finds it before it claws off someone’s face.” Charlie began to undress. “When do you want to head to the dining hall?” 

“You go whenever you want. I’m not going today,” Bill clarified. He gestured toward his book. “I’m rather busy.”

Charlie glanced over at his newest book. “I don’t recognize that title. Did you get it from the library?”

“I think our dear Mr. Finch would sooner burn himself alive before he allowed such filth into our school.” Bill chuckled. “It’s muggle poetry.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “You and father—what is your fascination with them?”

“I’m not fascinated with _them_; I’m intrigued by their philosophy. The wizarding world is so inclined to these notions of superiority that we ignore all matters of muggle art, music, literature. Remember what our uncle used to say about them?”

“Uncle Billius is the last person we should hold as a standard.” Charlie scowled. “Remember what he said about dragons? ‘If we had any sense as a society, we’d burn down the reserves and slaughter the lizards where they laid…’” 

Bill laughed. “Believe it or not, his sentiments are shared by a great many.” Bill ran his hand over a passage. “He called muggles ‘base creatures’ who do nothing but breed like rats.” 

“People hate what they don’t understand,” Charlie added.

“That’s part of it,” Bill agreed. “Then, there’s envy.”

“Envy?” 

Bill chuckled. “How do you feel about numbers?”

Charlie sighed. “I keep telling you, Bill. Not everyone is as fascinated by arithmancy as you.”

Bill ignored him. “Last year, the wizarding population dropped from .73 child per woman to .68 child per woman. In the muggle world, the average woman has 1.82 children. Almost three times our population.” 

“So, we’re not fertile.”

“No, we’re not fucking,” Bill corrected. He began to read his book out loud. “‘_I do not hurt you any more than is necessary for you,__ I pour the stuff to start sons and daughters fit for these States, I press with slow rude muscle_…’”

“Please stop,” Charlie interrupted, a little red. “I get it. Muggles like sex. We already knew that about them.” 

Bill recognized the awkward look on Charlie’s face, a constant occurrence with Bill’s crudeness. The wizarding world was notably restrictive in their regard to sexual education. Hogwarts considered the topic a familial matter, but even their parents were nervous teachers in that regard. It wasn't considered proper conversation in their dorms, either, with the paintings casting constant judgment if they heard the boys get out of hand.

“It’s more than that, Charlie. They live differently than us, not because they lack magic, but because they can make their own. They make it through their art, their music, their literature, and they live because their lives are short. They won’t make it to a hundred and fifty; hells, there’s a good chance they won’t make it to fifty. Death sleeps over their shoulder, and they would have no victories without defiance.” Bill closed the book. “A desperate man wrote this, and desperate men are passionate. Have you ever wanted something so much, you could write like this?”

Charlie chuckled. “Do dragons count?”

“Do you want to fuck a dragon?”

Charlie’s face twisted in disgust. “Merlin, I can’t take you anywhere.” He grabbed his red sweater and a pair of casual pants. “I’m heading out. You want me to bring you back anything?”

Bill refused. “I’ll go down to the kitchens after.”

“You sure they’ll let you?”

“The elves always let me.” Bill grinned.

Cocky bastard, Charlie thought. He left the room without a word. He loved his brother, but it wasn’t just their age difference that made them close. Charlie knew better than to poke the sleeping dragon, and Bill was as volatile as they came. While people imagined they spent their time together similarly to their twin brothers, scheming secret pranks and making facetious jokes, in reality, it was mostly silence. The two left each other to their own devices and passed no judgment when they saw unorthodoxies in the other’s behavior. Charlie knew about Bill’s ‘projects’ and his additional forays into dark arts. While Bill knew about Charlie’s habitual dalliances with magical creatures, many of which ranked far beyond what the school’s scope allowed. On occasion, one would act as a soundboard and listen to the other’s thoughts, before giving the other space to think.

It was nice. It worked for them.

When Bill left their bedroom, more young men began to shuffle in and out, before it became apparently everyone had left for dinner. Bill took his book and his cigarettes and abandoned his quarters to enter the common room. At this point, it had completely cleaned out.

Bill flicked his cigarette to light it, earning the ire of several paintings. One portrait, in particular, was livid. “Fire? In the common room! How dare you? Such insolence!” Bill ignored her. “You fiend! Put it out! Put it out!” Bill heard the clanging of metal, indicating that her yelling had gotten the other paintings’ attention, most notably the knights. Bill raised his hand and used his fag like a wand. “_Igniculus_.”

The painting shrieked with horror as sparks flew out of the cigarette end. It was all for show—without his wand, Bill couldn’t possibly produce enough fire to cause any damage. Nonetheless, the painting ran away, screaming, yelling about the beastly ginger who threatened her life. Bill chuckled because regardless of her testimony, everyone would suspect the twins.

Peace reinstated; Bill returned to his literature. He laid down on the couch and took a nice, long drag of his cigarette, letting the smoke morph into whatever pictures it wished while he read another page.

“_I sing the body electric_,” Bill read out loud. “_The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them; they will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, and discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul…” _Bill went through every line with growing interest, admiring the scene of the naked swimmer in his bath, or of the beautiful man who everyone loved with a personal love. Bill wished his brother had not left so he could ask him what became of wild beasts collared in their prime, how damaged a lion’s psyche would become if it were whipped into a kitten. Like all students, Severus came to Hogwarts on the cusp of puberty; before then, he lived amongst muggles who knew nothing of their prudish propriety. Bill bet he saw all sorts of public displays of affection without recourse. He would even bet the Slytherin head watched his parents kiss or do all sorts of touches without a moment’s care—if the rumors were to be believed.

Ah, Bill thought, a wave of embarrassment washed over him. He made a great mistake today. Bill was stuck on the bridge between wishing he didn’t reveal so much to his professor and also wondering if he should have said a lot more. Bill doubted a lie, even one of omission, would be well-received. But he didn’t know how to reveal the truth without harming their relationship further.

The pureblood community was small enough that even blood traitors had a hand on the table and an ear in the room. All Bill had to do to get information on the Prince family was ask a particularly loose-lipped aunt or uncle, and the poison practically dripped from their lips. From his aunt, he learned that almost thirty years ago, the heiress of the Prince family was caught in the arms a muggle.

“Oh, was it a scandal!” Aunt Muriel cackled. “She was still a student at the time,” Muriel explained that during a trip to Hogsmeade, one of her classmates noticed she had drifted away from the group and followed her to a portkey. The girl watched her pureblood classmate be reunited with her lover—a young man still much older than the teenager—and took her into his house. She followed inside and saw the sight of her lifetime. “I heard you could still find the recorded pensieve in the dark markets. It was rather _intense_.”

Bill was taken back. “What?”

“Oh, the witch didn’t just watch,” Aunt Muriel revealed. “You know how Slytherins are, always scheming to tear their ‘friends’ apart. Not like us Gryffindors.” Aunt Muriel patted him on the hand in comradery. “My friend had a granddaughter who attended their class. The Prince girl was a handful, but she was brilliant. The best student in her house and would have made Head Girl if it weren’t for this scandal.” She hummed. “So, the little spy showed off her memory to the entire school, hoping to have the Prince removed. Utterly tasteless.”

Bill recalled Eileen’s name missing from the graduation list. “She was expelled?”

“No,” Aunt Muriel revealed. “I believe one of the professors vouched for her to stay, the catty one.” She sounded wistful. Bill was always her favorite nephew—he was undoubtedly the most handsome, and Aunt Muriel enjoyed their moments together. She was glad he was developing a taste for storytelling. Now, she could be the envy of her friends when she told them about the pleasant afternoon tea she had with him. “The headmaster was quick to cover up the details. I suppose he was used to covering up a scandal,” She added snidely. “They made it forbidden to have any thoughts of the matter recorded within Hogwarts’s walls. Not that it mattered, given her sullied reputation.”

Aunt Muriel reached for a tart; Bill pushed the plate towards her, which she eagerly engulfed. “I bet her family wasn’t happy.”

“Well, she certainly was,” Aunt Muriel sneered. She leaned in close, and Bill followed her motions, she regaled the tales of Eileen’s debauched fall. “The summer after the incident, I attended a party with her parents—naturally, I gave my condolences. They were quite upset.” Bill bit back a snort. He doubted Aunt Muriel was the epitome of empathy. “All of a sudden, I heard a loud ‘splash’ outside. Everybody at the party turned our attention to the pool, and it was Eileen, half-naked in some muggle’s dress, love marks all over her flesh, laughing her head off because she accidentally apparated in the pool. Her arm was…” Muriel looked sick. “_Splinched_; her blood was everywhere. Then, she was reciting these words…some wicked muggle literature. She sounded mad.”

Bill frowned. “Was she okay?”

“Her father was prepared to admit her into St. Mungo’s by the end of the day.” Muriel was a known gadabout, and the more tasteless the tale, the better. Bill watched her face, normally rich with pleasure over the sordid stories, become compassionate.

“You don't approve?”

Aunt Muriel snorted. “That girl had problems, Bill. But no man sends his daughter there to be fixed—it’s where girls go to get broken.” Aunt Muriel sipped her tea, a little distant. “No one's heard about her since the incident, so we assumed the worst. I was surprised to see her marriage announcement in the papers.”

Bill nodded. “And that was it?”

“No…” Aunt Muriel paused. “Well, we knew she gave birth to a son. Her parents attempted to bring her back after that—fertility amongst our kind is rare. Not that your parents would understand.” She gave him a disapproving look. “A few families were willing to overlook her indiscretion with the promise to produce a healthy heir.”

Bill smiled. “She didn’t take it.”

“Who would?” Aunt Muriel shook her head. “By Merlin, I haven’t thought about her in forever. Why did you bring her up?”

Bill thought it better not to lie. It would be too suspicious if the truth were found out later, and he didn’t need Aunt Muriel making up more sordid stories to her pureblood friends. “Her son is our Potions Master. When I saw her picture in the showcase, I was curious how a Slytherin pureblood would end up with a half-blood son.” 

Aunt Muriel chuckled. “Well, now, you know. Good for your professor. Education is a tolerable profession, and well-suited for someone of his standing.” She finished up the last of her tea and ordered some wine to finish off their conversation. The elves complied at once. “Hopefully, he can learn from his mother’s mistakes and close his legs. With that much wickedness in his blood, I’m surprised no bastards are running through the halls already.” 

Bill gratefully took up her offer for a glass. “Well, there’s still time,” he told her as he sipped his red. It was of good quality, and it would keep his aunt from detecting the promise in his voice.

***

Bill closed his book. His cigarette had expired, and he was about to light another one when his aunt’s revelations resurfaced into his head. There was no telling how accurate his aunt’s account was, but he was sure it wasn’t entirely false. Bill’s dissatisfaction came from the fact that he wanted to know more. He wanted to see every rumor and report, every secret and story about the man. Bill was obsessed; it was as if an incubus had possessed his body and was feeding off his teacher’s lust. He knew a part of his professor longed for him—the kiss proved the wanting’s existence. Bill wondered how much further he had to push to resuscitate the suffocated desire.

Unable to find the answer in his thoughts or his books, Bill’s body pushed himself off the couch and out of the rooms. Everyone would be heading back to the dorms soon, and that included the professors. He didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention, especially with the acts he yearned to perform. He needed the discretion his perfect schoolboy imaged allowed him.

Bill was able to move to the dungeons without being detected and was standing in front of Snape’s door as he was a few nights ago, and many other nights before that.

If his professor knew how far Bill had gone to find out information on him, the man would have his head split open on a door in St. Mungo’s. Worse, Snape would never forgive him. But Bill couldn’t help himself the first time, and now he feared an addiction. Last night was a moment the two of them would forever share, even if his professor knew nothing about it.

Bill brought up his wand and pointed it at the door. “_Intra_.” He drew a line upwards. “_Mundum_.” Drew a 90-degree angle. “_Revelare_.” And brought it across. His spell created a square door that projected the image of whatever was behind the door. He saw his professor’s back as the man got ready for his evening shower. When he left to the bathroom, Bill’s breath hitched.

There were good days and bad days for Bill. The Good Days when he decided his behavior had gone too far, and he needed to take a step back before he did something unforgivable. The Bad Days were when Bill didn’t care. He wanted more than he deserved. He needed what he couldn’t afford. And it messed up his morality in a way that would leave his mother in tears. Today was one of those Bad Days, where he directed his wand towards the lock, and whispered, “_Alohomora_.” 

The door opened, and Bill quickly shuffled through before he regained his reason. He knew the area well enough. This was not his first-time entering Severus’ home, but if all went well, it might be his last time doing so without invitation. He heard Snape come back and quickly hid behind the door the older man entered from.

From his position, he could see that his professor was in that delectable robe again, and it looked even more tempting in his private quarters. It was open this time, and as he bent down, Bill could catch a glimpse of his nipple. Bill could have revealed himself then, ripped off that barrier of fabric, and had his way with his lovely professor. The man would fight, but like their kiss before, Bill knew he would enjoy it. His professor may even learn to crave it after their first time.

As soon as the devil whispered his thoughts, Bill dug his nails into his fist and bit back his moan. It was the last remaining goodness in Bill that kept him from ravishing his professor tonight. When Snape returned to his bath, Bill released his breath.

Bill followed the man to his restroom and cast the same spell he did from earlier. Bill may have held off from sin tonight, but he was far from a saint. He needed the additional viewing pleasure of his professor stripped of his pride. Through the window, Bill witnessed Snape take off his robe to reveal his serpentine body, glowing with ethereal paleness that contrasted the pink of his mouth, his cock, and his greatest secret—a delectable slit in between his thighs.

When Bill first saw it, he lost his breath and almost stroked his cock raw. He would have never imagined his professor, closed as the chains that locked his dungeons and cold as the deep waters his home resides within, would possess something so open and hot. Back then, Bill couldn’t get it out of his mind, and his newly laid crush hatched into the monstrosity it was now.

There was no turning back for Bill. The Head Boy shoved his hand into his pants and gripped his cock. He watched Snape turn on the faucet and cast a heating spell on the tub while the water rose. There was elegance to everything his professor did. He could make stripping look like a show, and the way he lathered soap on his body reminded Bill of the suds of the ocean brushing against a mermaid’s skin.

Bill circled his thumb over the head of his cock and pressed it as white fluid seeped out. The student was not gentle; he imagined Snape to be hesitant handling another man’s wand, his experience making him nervous and skittish and rough. Bill licked his lips at the thought of Snape’s innocence. Untouched by any man out of fear of finding out his biggest secret; he knew his professor was ashamed of his body, having seen the lack of mirrors in his home and disgust every time he was made to confront his abnormality. Bill couldn’t understand why. Severus Snape was the most lovely person he’d ever laid eyes on. But the Weasley wasn’t ungrateful—Bill wanted Snape for himself, and he feared what he would do if he learned there had been another inside his professor.

Snape dropped some water onto his hair. He sleeked any strands out of his face and dampened the ends. With his hair pushed back, Snape's prettiness was in full view. Bill bit his lip. He smeared his pre-cum all over the head and body of his pulsing cock. It felt so good wet; he could almost imagine he was in the tub with his professor.

The man proceeded to wash more thoroughly. He wasn’t one for nonsense in a bath; he cleaned every crook and crevice of his body, and at one point, stood up to clean in between his back. When he slid his washcloth between his cheeks, Bill knew he didn’t have much time. He twisted his hand over the reddened head of his cock and squeezed the base. Bill was losing his breath. His hand jerked up and down his dick, but his movements were on autopilot. He watched Snape splashed water all over his skin, before rinsing out his hair by diving into the tub and coming out—completely and utterly drenched. Bill made no effort to slow down, increasing his speed as he fucked into his fist. His eyelids fluttered closed, and his hand moved quickly to reach his orgasm. He couldn’t risk getting caught, but the thought of leaving Snape before completion was impossible.

As Bill drew close, Snape stopped his ministrations. Bill felt his heart pound as the man mouthed something that looked obscene. Bill had an active imagination, but most of all, he enjoyed the sight of Snape’s open mouth as he spoke. The man had a gorgeous voice, and it would only sound better if it were moaning around Bill’s cock.

Bill thought the sight and sounds of that fantasy were going to what he came to, only to have Snape turn around and stare straight at the door.

Everything happened in a moment. The first spurt of cum was mostly caught in Bill’s hand, and he reopened tonight’s prior wound when he bit his lip to keep from groaning. His head fell forward as more cum shot out and stained his pants. Bill's breath came out in shuddering gasps, but he didn’t slow down, stroking himself through his orgasm and stopping only to squeeze his cock as if to ensure he’d wrung every drop from it.

Snape couldn’t see from his side of the door, but Bill’s heart stopped when their gazes met. Severus' had the darkest eyes, much like the marbles in a snake and it was impossible to look away. As soon as it came, however, Severus shook his head and turned back to his bath. Bill couldn’t read his lips, but he was sure the man had commented on ‘imagination’ running wild. He went back to his bath and left Bill alone.

Bill knew he shouldn’t test his luck. At the moment, being ignored by his future lover was an act he didn’t care for, nor would he give up on making sure it didn’t happen again. Bill moved himself to Snape’s bedroom. There, he took his cum-stained hands and moved over Snape’s pillow, where he would be laying in, engulfed in the scent of fresh sheets and cotton, and now—Bill’s cum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who follow me on Twitter, you'll know this chapter was extremely hard to write because of how difficult Bill's POV was. I thought because he was a minor character in the series, I'd have more freedom because there was less risk of him being OOC, but man, no. As one user pointed out (thank you), with Severus, I had a lot of context for his character whereas Bill is a blank space.
> 
> Regardless, thank you for those who commented! I know a lot of people were curious about how Bill found out about Severus, and I knew I was going to answer it in this chapter so I didn't say anything. 
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter cause the next one will get much, much steamier. No joke, I'm so excited for that chapter. I really am. It's going to be super intense, and I just love it.


	5. Chapter 5

Severus was ashamed of his own cowardice when he skipped breakfast. He knew he couldn’t avoid the boy forever. Bill stood in the front of his advanced potions class, but Severus needed the time to figure out how to deal with the boy. He couldn’t have him removed from his class without reason, and any truth would harm him as well. If he lied, he could potentially harm the boy’s career, and, Severus wasn’t prepared to go that far. Severus spent the entire morning drenched in Bill’s memory because he couldn’t get the boy out of his mind. Everything about the student haunted Severus; Bill’s touch still marked his body, Bill’s desires clouded his thoughts, even his smell lingered on Severus's skin. Severus spent the entire morning trying to convince himself that Bill was playing a game, and Severus had every right to ruin the boy’s life for pulling such a prank. A screaming voice within urged him otherwise, because as much as Severus wanted to be loyal to his doubts and keep his walls high, he knew the delusion was better renounced. Last night was real. The kiss was real. Bill’s fantasies were real. No one, not even a Gryffindor, would go so far for a prank. 

Before Severus could come to terms with the possible reality that this child truly lusted after him, his break had ended, and his advanced potion’s class was already filing inside. Severus sighed. He rubbed his temples, collected his things, and prepared for class. 

When almost everyone was inside, Severus goes to straight to his lesson. He doesn’t look at any of his students in the eye, or rather, he doesn’t dare to look at a particular student at all. “Today, we’re going to work on the most powerful truth potion of all time. Does anybody know what it is?”

From the corner of his hand, he saw several hands shoot up. He pointed to a Slytherin he knew sat on the other side of the room.

“_Veritaserum_,” the girl answered. “It’s a potion that forces the drinker to answer any questions truthfully and is undetectable to the drinker.”

“A name would have sufficed,” Severus instructed curtly. “5 points to Ravenclaw.”

The girl shrunk down, but he saw her friend pat her on the back for a job well done. Severus looked up for his next question, finally gaining the courage to meet Bill’s gaze when he saw that no such misfortunate was in front of him. He immediately frowned.

“Can anybody tell me why Mr. Weasley is absent?”

A Gryffindor boy raised his hand. “Professor Flitwick asked him for help after class today. He’s supposed to be late.”

Severus’s grip around his wand turned into a fist. “Need I remind all of you that when you are taking my advanced course, the only thing you’re supposed to do is _be present_.” He scowled as his class shivered. “I would advise all of you to think carefully of who you choose to assist, especially if it means making enemies elsewhere.” Severus turned around angrily to bring up his caldron and slammed it onto his desk, causing everyone to jump. “Because of the complexity of the potion, we will first start with the fundamentals. Once you are finished brewing the potion, I expect a twenty-page research essay on it, including a description towards making it. After that, you will test out your concoction on yourselves. If in an attempt to get an undeserved pass, you try to deceive me, it will result in an automatic failure,” Severus warned. He glared at them. “And trust me, I will know if you are lying.”

The students were stunned silent. Severus began his new round of questioning. The one thing he enjoyed about his advanced course was that the students came prepared instead of lollygagging like the younger students, praying they didn’t get called on. “How long does it take to brew _veritaserum?”_

The boy from earlier shot his hand up. “One lunar phase—approximately 28 days.”

Snape nodded. “5 points to Gryffindor.” Giving those points never stopped hurting.

“Who has the authority to administer the potion?”

Another student answered without being selected. It was a Slytherin girl, so Severus held his tongue on her scolding. “Use of the potion is strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic.”

Hoping to increase her score, Severus asked her a follow-up question he knew anyone of ambition could answer. “And what benefits come from being able to brew _veritaserum?” _

The girl grinned. “Well, I could think of a few personal reasons,” she giggled. A few people laughed along with her. “But it is an advanced potion, and being able to brew is a testament to the skill of the witch or wizard. Furthermore, while there are restrictions on its use and it is impossible to buy _legally_, it is not traceable. Anyone who possessed the ability to create it has a valued skill in the job market.”

“Well done, 20 points to Slytherin.”

Severus proceeded to ask who was most vulnerable to its effects and kept note of the particularly silent students. He knew they didn’t read the assigned material, and he was going to make sure they faced the repercussions of their action on his next question.

“And what are the limitations of _veritaserum?” _Severus turned to the squirming Gryffindor, and as he opened his mouth to call on the boy’s name, a voice from the back called out his own.

“Professor Snape?”

Severus’ head shot up. His mouth went dry when he saw Bill Weasley standing in the back, no robe or blazer insight, wearing only his white dress shirt with the first two buttons undone, hair messy, and sweat running down his neck. He looked like sex.

Severus opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t.

“Sorry for being late,” Bill explained for him. “I ran an errand for Professor Flitwick, and it went overtime. Here’s a note.”

Bill walked over to hand him the piece of parchment. Severus swallowed, but he still couldn’t wet his throat well enough to speak. He took the paper and bit a gasp down when their fingers touch. Bill smiled at him, and it made Severus burn with anger and arousal. He shoved the paper into his pocket.

“10 points from Gryffindor.” Anymore and Professor Flitwick would have a fit. The goblin-oriented professor liked Bill more than anyone else, and he no doubt gifted the Gryffindor house with enough points to make up for Snape’s deduction. “And you may sit in the back of the class due to the distraction you’ve caused.”

Bill smiled, and it was smugger than before. “Of course, professor.”

Severus tried to continue his lesson with impunity. “Since I was interrupted, can someone answer my previous question?_” _He nodded towards another Ravenclaw girl.

“The potion is unreliable—this is one of the reasons it cannot be used in court. There are many who are resistant to the potions’ effects as well, sometimes through willpower, the antidote, or occlumency.”

“5 points to Ravenclaw—”

“It also only urges it’s a victim to state what they believe to be true, not necessarily what’s the reality.” Severus turned to Bill; whose confidence had all the heads turning to hear him speak. 

Severus knew his ire would only earn him Bill’s amusement. He decided to play this boy’s game. “And what does that mean, Mr. Weasley?”

“Truth is subjective. The potion only forces the drinker to recite what their perception of reality holds, and not what actually may have occurred,” Bill looked at Severus in the eye. “A man could fall in love, but the object of their affections may drink the potion and say he was _joking_.”

Fortunately, Severus came prepared with a set of occlumency spells. No matter what Bill was thinking, the Slytherin wasn’t letting Bill in today. Instead, he turned around and went straight to the lecture without saying a word. Because _veritaserum _was tested on the NEWTs exam, he restrained from putting up his variation on the board. The students took out their booklets and began their notes. Severus recited the words verbatim from last year’s lessons. He liked the familiarity of his educational routine. It was almost enough to make him forget about Bill.

Almost.

When Severus instruct everyone to prepare their caldrons, he turned around to see who was listening to his lecture. Half the class looked ready to wet their pants. Had he been watching; he would have seen the same glazed expressions he caught on hundreds of students before. He knew it was his voice. Lily used to tell him that if silk could speak, it would sound like his voice. She loved it. And when Severus listened to her praise, he felt like she loved him, too.

Severus’ turned his attention back to his class for nothing else but the distraction. He wasn’t surprised when his eyes were drawn to the ginger in the room, but Bill was focused on his instruction. Severus thought he was free until the young man rolled up his sleeves. Severus did his best not to lick his lips as his eyes traced the lines of Bill’s arms, admiring the smooth muscle and the freckles on his skin.

Severus wasn’t the only one whose attention was peaked. Every girl in the room, even the most diligent of the bunch, stop everything they were doing. After Bill finished rolling up his last arm, he moved to tie his hair in a loose ponytail. If possible, he looked more attractive. A soft moan escaped his lips. The sounded caught the attention of his class, and Severus was startled as the focus turned back to him. Severus struggled to present himself, and turned away, knowing the all too familiar redness would surface on his face. He resumed his lecture by warning the students not to mess up the wand work, which was vital in the first step. With that completed, Severus returned to his desk to focus on the next class’ lecture. He would give his class a ten-minute preparation period, and another fifteen at the beginning of brewing before he would inspect their work. Hopefully, this should be enough time to gather his thoughts.

After ten minutes, his aspirations were dashed when Bill spoke up. “Professor?”

Severus paused. He took a deep breath and addressed his student. “Yes, Mr. Weasley?”

“I just can’t get it to the color it needs to be. I think it may be my wand stroke.”

Severus grimaced. “Have you read the instructions thoroughly?”

“Yes, and I don’t think I understand it right.” Bill displayed a haphazard wave. His expression was a mix of concern and faux innocence that did little mask his smugness. Severus couldn’t justify leaving him alone, and he worried what the boy may resort to for his attention. Half the materials in _veritaserum _was could kill an elephant.

Severus walked to the back of the room. “Show me that stroke again.”

Bill complied by placing his hand on Severus’ backside.

Severus closed his eyes and swore to Merlin and prayed to his father’s God for the strength not to kill his student. “Mr. Weasley.”

“Yes, professor?” Bill asked out loud. He gave Severus’ bottom a firm squeeze. “How’s my grip?”

Severus went red. Bill was relentless with Severus’ body. He continued to play to his heart’s content, squeezing the fatty bottom until the flesh was spilling out of his hands. Severus placed his hand on the table to stable himself, only for Bill to take it a step further by digging his fingers into the slit between his cheeks and brushed his thumb against Severus's pucker.

“Stop it,” Severus hissed.

Bill didn’t answer but complied. When Severus thought he was safe, the young man stood up and towered over his teacher in order to press him against the desk. Severus opened his mouth but could only release a silent scream as his student pressed his erection against him.

“Could you show me the proper way, professor? I’m just having such a hard time figuring this out.” Bill placed his wand into Severus’ hand. Severus clutched onto it until his knuckles went white. Bill chuckled. “Could you be gentler with my wand? It might break if you grip it too tight.”

“Stop using such a weak product, and it won’t be a problem,” Severus snapped.

Bill only chuckled. He leaned forward, so his chin was almost resting on Severus’ shoulder. “I love how you fit in my arms,” Bill murmured. He motioned Severus’ hand to the caldron. “Do you prefer it when I move like this or like this?” Bill asked out loud. He placed his hands on Severus’ hips, and as he moved his hand counterclockwise and reversed, he made sure to rub himself against his professor further.

“I prefer you to follow the instructions in the book.” Severus tried to keep his tone low.

“Not always,” Bill reminded him. “I know you don’t like to play by the rules, professor.” Bill kept his tone low, but not impossible to hear in case someone was listening. “You’re only teaching this way because we’re being tested on it. If no one was watching, I bet you would do whatever you like.”

Snape looked around the room. Everyone was too busy paying attention to their potion, but Severus knew any negative noise would draw their attention in a heartbeat. Severus squirmed, trying to get away, but all he did was make Bill’s position more pleasurable as he pressed himself further against the straining cock.

Bill released a breathy noise. “You get me so hard,” Bill whispered into his ear. Pretenses went; all he was left was his bluntness. “I want to fuck you.”

Fuck. Severus’ cock wasn’t prepared for that declaration. If Bill bothered to slip his hand underneath those robes he loved to rub against, his fingers would get soaked by milk and honey.

“Don’t do this,” Severus ordered him, but it came off as a plea. Bill’s teeth touched the tip of his ear.

“I’m not doing anything, professor.” His breath caressed his neck. Both his hands were on Severus’ hips now, and instead of settling for rubbing, he was thrusting his clothed cock in between Severus's cheeks. His movements were slow and deliberate, not intense to catch attention, but not so subtle that it wouldn’t raise suspicion if they looked behind them.

“Someone will see,” Severus whispered.

“What was that, professor?” Bill asked, loud enough to catch some students' attention. He didn’t bother to take a step back. A few students glanced in their direction out of curiosity. “Stir like this?” Bill forced Severus's hand near the caldron to move in the instructed manner. The clear liquid quickly transformed into the ideal crystal blue color. “Oh, I see, thank you, professor. Could you help me with the next step?” The students from before turned back to their work. Bill leaned in close. “People see what they want to see, and they believe what they need to, regardless of the truth that is in front of them.”

“What do you want?” Severus asked, unable to keep up with this charade for much longer.

“You,” Bill answered. “Me. A moment of uninterrupted privacy where I can have you all to myself.” 

Severus swallowed. “And if I say no?” He wouldn’t; today was proof he couldn’t avoid his student forever. But he refused to let this man _win _so easily. 

“You won’t,” Bill said knowingly. He back away from Severus and returned his hand to the backside. Severus felt more ashamed he wasn’t surprised when Bill moved his hand forward to stroke the clothed folds of his cunt. “Your pride’s as pretty as the rest of you.”

Severus released his breath, defeated. “After class,” he told him, trying his best to keep his composure. He shoved his student away, and it is the Gryffindor’s will that made the action possible. Bill was so much stronger than him; Severus knew without his wand; he was a victim to the young man’s whims. The class continued without further interruption. Severus walked to the front of the classroom. He stopped to check every student’s progress, giving them preliminary marks and answering questions if they asked. The hourglass ran fast, and when it hit the last strand, Severus held his breath. All the students were eager to leave, and none of them took their time to clean up. For the first time, Severus regretted his behavior, knowing if he was a hair kinder, they might have taken their time and gave him more opportunity to collect himself.

“See you later, Bill,” a girl called out, touching her peer’s shoulder as she left. The action made Severus’ bristled, but Bill’s disinterested smile placated him. Once she was gone, Bill and Severus were left alone.

Severus wasn’t sure what he expected from his student, so he almost wasn’t surprised when Bill marched to the front and kissed him against the chalkboard. His hands were on both sides of Severus’ face to keep him from running. This, Severus predicted. He didn’t fight the kiss and eventually leaned in to accept his student’s tongue. It felt good to give in. They snogged like star-crossed lovers hiding in the hallways. Severus’s acceptance encouraged Bill’s recklessness, and he became careless as he kissed his professor with more fervor. Bill finally let go for air, too fascinated by the allowance that he couldn’t think straight let alone breathe.

“You taste so good,” Bill breathed out as if Severus was a gift.

Severus hoped he enjoyed it while it lasted because as soon as he could, Severus pointed his wand against Bill’s chest. 

“_Flipendo_.”

Bill was knocked backward several feet. Though disorientation was a common side effect of the knock-back curse, it was the shock of Severus’ attack that left his head spinning. He looked up, and Severus was staring at him with cool, dark eyes, daring him to speak. Bill realized it could be worse. His professor held back. At their distance, the man could have broken half his bones with a first-year jinx. 

The Head Boy quickly got back on his feet. He dusted himself off to collect time for his composure, and once most of it was recovered, he looked at his professor with a shaken grin. “You didn’t have to go that far. A ‘no’ would have sufficed.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Severus replied. Both didn’t need to _veritaserum _to know Severus was speaking the truth. “If you want to talk, you keep your distance.”

Bill took a step forward to challenge that notion. Severus immediately raised his wand when he drew too close. “I just want to talk about last night.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened;”

Bill ran his tongue over the cut on his lip. “Something happened.” He stared down at Severus. “You can’t deny there’s something between us.”

“Of course, there’s something,” Severus agreed. As soon as the hope surfaced in Bill’s eyes, Severus added, “You’re my student.” Wrong or right, Severus knew it needed to be said. If nothing else, but as a reminder to Severus to stop their madness before it got any further. The scar dashed through his wrist was proof of his prior sins, and he didn’t dare add another mark on his body. “Even if your feelings are true, it’s not what you think. Boys like you think an infatuation means forever. It’ll pass.” 

Bill shook his head, smiling as his hand balled up into a fist. “A boy like me?” Bill mocked.

“You can have anyone you want.” Severus bit his finger, not realizing the rise he was getting out of the other male. He thought about what to say next, before deciding that a bit of truth was necessary to convince the Gryffindor. “You’re handsome, Bill." This was the sole victory Severus would allot his student. "This _thing _you think is between us is purely physical. I liked the attention, and you enjoy a challenge. But enough is enough. I won’t be so easy to your praises any longer.”

Bill laughed mirthlessly. “Trust me; you are not easy.” Bill took a step further, and though Severus raised his wand to defend himself, Bill quickly captured his wrist, letting the stick fall to the ground. He pulled Severus against a desk by his hand and let go. Severus tried to push him off, only to have Bill grab his wrists again and force his hands onto the counter. Bill held firmly, and Severus could feel his cock pulsing against his covered pussy. Severus tried his best not to press against it. Bill was so close, and his cunt was sensitive regarding his student.

“Do you know I’m still rock hard?” Bill asked. “I couldn’t get soft for a second knowing I’d get to see you after class.”

Severus wanted to tell him this proved his point. Purely physical, he repeated in his head. But then Bill explained that this wasn’t the first time he’d had such a reaction for his teacher. 

“I used to watch you walk around the castle with your robes flowing behind you like wings. I would take a shortcut through the Room of Requirement so that I could wait where you were headed. I was utterly entranced by the sight of you. Obsessed, almost. Especially when you were storming off somewhere. You never noticed the charms I would cast to get your robes flying high—I had the nicest view of your ass.” Bill chuckled. “I only stopped because the other boys were noticing, too. Slytherin boys, especially. Merlin, you were always nicer to them. I didn’t want them to get the wrong idea. I already decided you were mine, and I wasn’t going to let anyone have you,” Bill smiled, but there an uneasiness to his grin. He looked predatory, dangerous, and fuck if it didn’t turn Severus on further.

“I wasn’t yours to claim.”

“Yes, you were.” Severus looked back into those hawk eyes peering down on him, and he immediately regretted not adding another spell for protection. “You were mine as soon that fire broke out in the Slytherin dorms, and you stood in front of me, dressed in almost nothing, looking like you were ready to get fucked for a dry towel,” Bill declared. “Do you remember? The dungeons were completely evacuated. We all left our rooms to watch, and there you were, drenched from head to toe because you and the elves were casting water spells to put it out. I could still remember that robe shaping your body, clinging to the supple curves every boy wanted to touch.” Bill chuckled without humor. “All of us were drooling; I went straight to the baths afterward because I couldn’t get you out of my head.”

A knot formed in Severus’ throat. He was only twenty-three when that happened. He remembered his students giving him more attention after that. They helped carry his books and asked to stay after class to assist him with preparation. His insecurities led him to believe they were making fun of him, so he punished them for their kindness. Severus’ face burned when he realized their intentions were far more perverse.

They weren’t looking down on him; they were _leering_.

Severus knew he should Bill leave so he may collect his dignity. He had a class soon. He had important tasks to prepare. With his hands free, he had a variety of options to make this happened. Yet the revelation stopped all sense of reason.

Running on pure regret for the years that could have been, Severus used his freedom to pull Bill down for a kiss. Bill was stunned, but he recovered like any teenager when sex was rich in the air. The young man lifted Severus onto the table to make his professor more accessible to his mouth. Severus moaned against his lips. He wrapped his legs around Bill’s hips. He was losing himself, and his body moved on his own when his hands flew to Bill’s shirt.

He looked too good in white, Severus thought. Without the blazer, Severus could forget the teenager was his student and imagine he was just another handsome man who caught his eye on the street. Severus pawed at the buttons, and when his hands shook too much for anything to get done, his magic snapped the buttons off.

The spell ended up ricocheting onto his fingers, scorching Severus’ tips. Bill laughed at the sensation, for the spark shocked him as well, but not in the same degree as Severus. Severus was stunned. His magic had never been so out of control, not even in grief. This lust, this passion they had with each other was dangerous for him.

He needed to stop. Now.

“We can’t,” Severus whispered as he turned away. “We’re going too far. We need to stop.” He tried to get up, but Bill held him by the hips. “Bill, let go—”

“I love it when you say my name,” Bill told him instead of letting go. He didn’t sound upset by Severus’ declaration. His head moved to rest on Severus’ shoulder. “I can’t wait for you to come on my cock, screaming it.”

Severus almost choked; he didn’t need to respond because Bill kept talking.

“You have class, soon,” Bill justified. “You don’t want to get caught with a man between your legs, and I don’t want that for you either. It’s better I wait until tonight, that way I have all the time in the world to work on your thighs.”

Severus didn’t know how he could get possibly wetter.

“It’s a good thing I still have to return your book.”

“Keep it,” Severus breathed out. He was about to protest Bill’s appearance at all, but the younger man interrupted him.

“I can’t do that,” Bill reassured. “I need to return it because if someone catches me wandering in the dungeons late I night, I need to be able to tell them the reason.” Bill gave Severus a forceful, unbreakable kiss. When he let go, he was staring into Severus's dark eyes. “Leave the door unlocked for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter, and I really appreciate all the comments. I think I'm going to classify this story as "slow burn" but there's going to be a lot these sorts of chapters before they get to the big finale of the firework show. :) But yeah, I'm really proud of myself, because I've been writing a chapter every week (even though they weren't always "on time"), and the progress has been pretty good. Let's cross our fingers to see if I can continue this to November (I'm hoping to push this story out in three sections, 13 chapters each). 
> 
> I really want to make a soundtrack of the music I listen to when I write. I think it really elevates some of the scenes in the story. Please let me know your thoughts!


	6. Chapter 6

Severus was inclined to a rough touch.

Wizards would call his affliction a curse—a blood malediction that made him want to finger paint his skin with black and blue and engrave crescent patterns onto his partner’s back. Muggles would claim genetics, a combination of nucleotides and proteins no different than the ones that greased his hair and made his nose break across his face. Whatever made Severus crave pain with his pleasure ran in his family. He could see in his father’s pulsing vein as he dragged Severus’ mother into the house, holding her down on the floor as she spat, bit, and clawed at him to escape. Severus could see it in the broken windows, and the shattered glass and shards spilled over the floor, digging into his father’s flesh. He screamed at her, called her a monster and a madwoman, all while holding her in his arms, therefore binding her body but still freeing her hands so she could use magic—unconcentrated, uncontrolled magic, but magic, nonetheless. Tobias didn’t like to leave her defenseless. He liked it when she wasn't the only one in pain. She called him a poisoner and a murderer because, in those moments, she felt like she was going to die. And she could have stopped him; she could have blown his brains out with a single spell. Severus swore never to forgive her for showing him, her son, that cowardice until he learned she wasn’t a coward. She was in love. His father was in love, too. They never loved each other enough to let go of each other, but they loved each other enough to make everything hurt. Severus’ mother pulled her husband’s hair so hard she removed clumps; she apparated plates and lamps, or whatever her magic could get its grip on, at him, and in return, his father struck her across her face until she was coughing blood. She fought back, he fought harder, and in the end, they fucked on the floor, hating each other because they could never love anyone else. 

Severus’ parents taught him that love was powerful; love popped floorboards and disintegrated bricks and broke bones and cut skin, and when Severus watched his parents become so immerse with each other that they forget their devastated son huddle underneath a table because he didn’t want the ceiling falling on him again, he knew love could kill. 

***

Severus changed before attending dinner. He wouldn’t go as far as to dress down, but he didn’t wear his robes when he attended the feast that night. The potions master wore common dress slacks and a simple black dress shirt—the type of thing he would wear to Sunday mass if he were still living in the muggle world, but nothing like he’d ever worn in front of his students. When asked by Minerva about his odd attire, he told her that his robes were damaged in a potion’s accident.

“All of them?”

“I’ve been behind on my laundry.” Severus drank his pumpkin juice. “Is that a problem?”

The Transfiguration professor looked at him. Then, she shook her head. “No. I was surprised. I haven’t seen you in muggle wear since you were a child.” 

“I won’t make it a habit,” Severus told her. He pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, and a swarm of thoughts came buzzing in his head. The students were watching him, and instead of acknowledging their observations, the potion’s master took a piece of bread from his plate and sliced it open with the precision of a surgeon. He added a thin layer of butter as he spoke, “I loathed this look.”

Minerva frowned. “Your muggle heritage isn’t something to be ashamed of, Severus.”

“No?” Severus held his fork midair. “When was the last time you visited your father’s manse?”

Severus didn’t have to look at her to see her. He imagined her lips closed together like a stitched wound, shoulders straight as a plank, a little bit of shame yet somehow indignant. Instead of answering him, she asked him to pass a plate of potatoes on his left. They continued their meal with their respective composure, both renowned for it until she asked if he was well.

“You missed breakfast this morning, not to mention your fainting spell yesterday.”

The word ‘spell’ and ‘faint’ caught the attention of several faculty members, most notably those of non-muggle heritage who were unused to the turn of phrase. Severus saw one of them turn to the muggle studies professor, Quirrell, for clarification.

“I am fine,” Severus told her. “Pomphrey ordered bed rest, and pumped me with enough potions; I should be well until the end of the century.”

“So, your fever is gone?”

“Utterly extinguished.” Severus put more greens onto his plate. He was about to eat until he noticed his colleague was staring. He put down his fork. “Is there anything else I could help you with?”

Minerva gave the most elegant shrug he’d ever seen, to a point he couldn’t call it a shrug but a movement of the shoulders. “You seem off.”

“Off?”

“Unlike yourself.”

“And you would know what ‘myself’ is?” Severus sneered. “You’re not my friend; you’re my colleague, Minerva. Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

Minerva ignored his jibe, though she wasn’t unaffected judging by the way she almost tipped her goblet. Severus wondered what he had done to offend her, for he could see no other reason but vengeance for her prurience. “I’ve noticed you retracted a deduction from my house a few nights ago. Should I be concerned?” 

“Of your students? Always.” 

Minerva paused. "I also noticed that when I went to look at the account, you removed it as well." 

Severus took a bite of his food to fill the hollowness in his stomach. Exploiting the points system was a minor hobby of his when he became a teacher, and though unfair, he often used it as a form of vindication for the suffering he experienced as a student. Particular walls, namely those that framed the hallways and boxed the classrooms, kept track of every authorized announcement regarding house points. Once the intention to subtract or add the points was approved, the walls would set up a recording as an additional precaution. If there was suspected abuse regarding the distribution, specifically by the head students or prefects, the teachers were able to look into the recording for reference.

Severus was smart regarding his bias; he never gave points for the sake of giving them, and he never deducted without an offense—never mind he treated a Gryffindor crushing an ant with the same severity as casting a hex. If someone chose to retract their original sentencing, the memory of the incident remained. Most of the time, it was for minor offenses. Perhaps a student was late but had an excuse that was only heard after the lesson. Or, a student correctly answered a question, but it turned out a friend gave the right answer. The teacher was then able to change their minds about the reward. The walls were trained to adapt to these actions, and all the parties had to do was to announce the modification, and it would be as if the event never happened.

To remove a recording, however, was far more complicated. For fairness, once a record was removed, the points were automatically terminated, as well. This was a feature Dumbledore personally charmed. The process required a manual spell directed at the house hourglass, which held the points, and it always led to a stain. The action was reserved for dire mistakes, so much so that it was a spell only a house head could perform.

Severus paused from cutting. He stared at his cooling meat; his appetite faded with every word. “You looked into my allocation?” 

Minerva could hear the outrage in his voice as if she accused him of another betrayal, and it was then she recognized the gravity of her observation. “Severus, I am not accusing you of anything. A student from my house was involved, and I wanted to know what happened.”

“Because you suspect foul play.”

“Because I was concerned,” Minerva emphasized tiredly. “It never looks good when a record is erased. For anyone.”

Concern? Severus glared at his plate. What nonsense. “How kind of you,” Severus said coolly. If they weren’t on display, he would have long stormed out. “Perhaps you should save your concern for candidates more worthy than myself. I’m sure you and the headmaster have already selected your favorites from the students.”

Minerva sighed. “Do not do this.”

“Do what?”

“Not everyone is your enemy, Severus, nor do they see you as one.” Minerva shook her head. “Kindness is not a cloak for deception.”

Severus pushed his plate out of the way. He couldn’t stomach another bite. While finishing up the rest of his goblet, he recalled Lucius’ promises of greatness or the seductive Slytherin cultism that enchanted him as a child. He remembered, with both fondness and disgust, of Lily’s kind words as they entangled their pinkies with one another, swearing to be friends forever, before boarding the train for the first time.

Severus never trusted a kind man’s aid, not when he could use a cruel man’s intentions. 

***

Severus stopped by his classroom instead of returning to his room and didn’t leave until dessert had long passed. Bill should be waiting outside his door by now if he hadn’t already left.

Severus shook his head. No, he thought, Bill wouldn’t give up so easily.

The potions master busied himself for the last hour with ingredient organizations and supply arrangements before moving on to the next day’s lessons. He was checking marks when he heard the door open. The half-blood tightened his grip around his quill before setting it down.

“I waited for you,” Mr. Weasley told him. He didn’t sound angry; he was annoyed at worse, but it was the sort of resigned annoyance one would give to their lover after a quarrel. Severus looked up, and sure enough, he was given the expressive equivalent of his tone.

“I had work to finish. Adults prioritize such commitments,” Severus remarked with no small amount of malice. He didn’t bother to look at his student at first, but eventually, he succumbed to temptation. Bill was an impossibly hard person to resist. Severus looked up, and once he did, he sighed. Bill’s lips were twitching; before the mention of their statuses would have gotten him upset. Now, Bill was the picture of neutrality.

“You promised we would meet tonight.” 

“I did no such thing,” Severus denied. He made a show of finishing up his notes before addressing Bill again. “You made the appointment on your whims. I had no say.”

“You’re my professor,” Bill grimaced when he said it. “As you like to remind me. You can deny me whenever you wish. Instead, you string me along like a cat’s toy.”

“I’ve tried rejecting you,” Severus pointed out. “And I’ve tried reasoning with you. You don’t listen, so if I must resort to these tactics, I will.” Severus walked towards the door. He was immediately, and unsurprisingly, blocked. “Move,” Severus ordered.

“Why should I listen to the words you don’t want to say?”

“Why is it the words I don’t want to say are always the words you don’t want to hear?” Severus shoved him to the side. Before he could reach the door, a clear ‘_Colloportus!_’ was cast in the air. Severus' hair flew as the door slammed shut.

Severus closed his eyes and tried to contain his frustration. When he turned around to confront Bill, all he could see was the young man’s smug expression. Merlin, he hated Gryffindors.

“You are a child,” Severus hissed. Without looking, Severus pointed his wand at the door and cast an unlocking spell. The smile dropped from Bill’s face. Severus was about to march out without so much as a word when Bill panicked and cast another spell.

In retrospect, the head boy admitted that there were several other ways to handle the situation. But he was still learning to think on his feet, and sometimes, effective was easier to grasp than efficient. “_Ventus_!” Bill shouted. A powerful gust of wind whirled into the room and knocked Severus off his balance. He hit the ground hard.

Bill's eyes widened. “Professor!”

Bill ran over to him, but before he was within an arm’s length of his crush, Bill was thrown against the other side of the room, crashing into the previously arranged inventory and push the desk several feet with his form. Bill didn’t see the wand pointed at him, nor did he notice the pure, undulated anger on his instructor’s face when the man got up and screamed, “_Expelliarmus_!”

Bill was not fully required when he heard the door open, and he barely caught a glimpse of Severus’ dark form as he left the room. Bill hastily cast a half-hearted healing spell as he ran out of the room to follow. When he stepped out, Bill was immediately greeted by darkness so rich; he could have pressed his hand in front of his face, and still be blind. It must be Snape’s doing—the candle lights were wholly extinguished. 

So clever, Bill thought proudly. He didn’t have time to dwell on the man’s cunning when a more pressing matter was in order. Everything still hurt, but Bill couldn’t waste any more time or magic on himself. Bill combined _Lumos_ with a tracking spell for a makeshift will ‘o wisp that would lead him to his professor. Bill was never more grateful for the natural athleticism that ran through his family line. The head boy was running down the halls with more grace and speed than some of the wizarding world’s best athletes, using his muscle memory to feel his way through the walls and dodging any critters below. It wasn’t long before he heard another set of footsteps.

Bill quickly cast a spell that scattered the orb he was following into a million different lights that swarmed the candle wicks. Each one helped light his pathway, and near the middle of the trail, he could see the object of desire jump almost mid-air at his arrival.

The light show urged Severus to face his chaser. The man stared at him with his black eyes; the only visible color was found from Bill’s reflection. Severus didn’t let him speak, and he didn’t bother on his own behalf. Severus directed his wand and used his magic to throw Bill against the wall, this time resulting in a loud sound that indicated a sprain or worse. His head hit the pavement after his body, and when he licked his lips, he could taste blood. Severus took off again, this time with more force in his step.

Bill listened to the delicate patters become a full-blown sprint, and he couldn’t help himself. He laughed. He laughed so hard he feared his wounds would reopen. The Weasley got up from the ground. He didn’t bother to try and heal himself; he wanted the pain. He liked how it fueled the adrenaline coursing through his body, and he liked the way his blood boil with every bruise. The hurt urged him to run. Run and never stop. Run and never stop until he caught his prey.

Merlin and all the gods and ghosts watching, this felt fucking good. Bill chased the man down his halls. Despite his injuries, Bill was fast, and Snape, for all his exceptional qualities, was never one for athletics. The head boy caught up to his professor with ease. “Professor!” He pleaded. “Professor, stop!”

Severus didn’t listen. With the disadvantage in their physicality, Severus resorted to underhanded tactics to win the race. He turned his head for a split second to cast an _expoximise_ incantation on the boy’s hand, and the magic compelled and stuck his entire body against the brick. Severus heard Bill swear in frustration, but the boy was smart, and it wasn’t long before he cast a dissolvent spell to remove it. Severus was not ahead for long, and he didn’t think he would be. Bill was faster and stronger, and Severus would never win in a game of strength. His heart was pounding as his body weakened from the activity. He was breathing heavier than he ever had in his entire life, but as the air filled, Severus never felt lighter. He was flying as the magic coursed through his fingers. When Bill was within sight, Severus was shot at him with _stupefy_, only for it to be deflected by Bill’s shield.

“_Glacius_!”

Severus was taken back when Bill responded with an offensive charm, especially one with so much potential for harm. The spell released a storm of icy cold air that froze the walls and threatened to do the same to Severus had he not countered with a fire spell. The force of fire and ice colluded in the air to fill the dungeons with steam. Had Severus not been so surprised, he would have used the opportunity to run. Instead, he waited for the mist to clear to look into Bill’s eyes. Would he be horrified as he was when he first attacked Severus? Would he feel vindicated for his victorious casting?

Instead, all Severus saw was excitement, and he was sure if he looked in the mirror, he would have seen the same. Severus raised his wand to draw the steam towards, and once it collected to cloud, he bent it into a wall before Bill could stop him. Bill was a talented wizard, but he wasn’t close to Severus’ skill. Bill attempted to break free, only to be hit by lightning and thrown on his feet.

“If we were in a proper duel, you’d be dead,” Severus taunted. “You should be grateful I don't take my students seriously."

Bill glared at him, and the anger sent a jolt down Severus’ spine. The student tried several spells to break the wall, with one particularly powerful one reflecting into his chest, sending him on his knees.

Severus smirked and took off again. The shield would disappear when the water finished dissipating, or when Bill found a way through. The professor only touched his door when he heard a crack, and the loudest, most self-satisfied cheer echoed through the halls. Severus didn’t hesitate to curse his door when he got inside and added another physical layer for protection. The Slytherin only had to wait a few seconds before the other man was banging on his door. He knew it was impossible, but he could smell the singed skin as Bill punched his bare knuckles on Severus’ enchanted door. Green flames erupted from the barrier with every attack.

He must be in so much pain, Severus thought, as his stomach churned with both nausea and anticipation. Severus’ suspicions were confirmed when the green flames extinguished into the air, and the cement wall he added disintegrated into nothing.

Bill walked through, heaving. He looked at Severus like he could kill. “Are you done, Severus?” Bill, wand in hand, flicked his wrist, and every door in the flat slammed shut, preventing Severus from any form of concealment. Bill’s hands were bloodied. There were scars on his limbs, and Bill’s uniform, already worn from aged, were torn to rags. His skin was drenched in sweat, and yet there was not a single sign that he didn’t want Severus.

“Don’t call me that,” Severus protested weakly. He took a step back when Bill got closer. Before he could raise his arm, Bill shouted ‘_expelliarmus_!’ Severus let his wand fly across the room. It was a predictable move, one that Severus could have easily countered. Instead, Severus stood where he was, defenseless.

“I’ll call you whatever I want. I won, Severus. I won, and I want my prize.”

“I am not a prize,” Severus hissed.

“No, you're a treasure,” Bill replied, and the declaration caught Severus off-guard. “That curse you placed on the door just now,” Bill addressed as he towered over Severus. “I learned how to break it as a fifth-year. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor taught it to me after I announced my intention to become a curse-breaker.” Bill shook his head. “You knew that; I know you did.”

“Don’t come any closer,” Severus warned him.

“Or what?” Bill took the step forward. “What will you do? Expel me? Hex me? Kill me? You could do anything you wanted, and it wouldn’t be enough because I would keep coming back for you—”

Severus couldn’t listen any longer. Without thinking, his hand lunged forward and struck his student across the face.

Bill clutched his cheek.

Severus gasped when he felt the sting on his hand. “Bill…” Severus tried to apologize, but nothing came out.

“Are you satisfied?” Bill asked, his voice low and menacing. Bill removed his hand where a defiant, red handprint was pulsing. He wore the mark like a battle scar. 

Severus couldn't stop his cunt from dripping. Not simply because of Bill's behavior, but because he knew that mark belonged to him. All his life, he'd been branded by the bruises of his father, the scars of Marauders, and Voldemort's mark. This was his sigil on Bill, and the boy was happy to have it. 

“I like it when you touch me,” Bill told him. He gave him a challenge Severus would like to regret taking. “Do it again.” 

A thousand forbidden curses couldn’t move Severus to act the way he had that night. Severus raised his hand and struck him again. The sting didn’t hurt this time. It felt good, empowering to be able to take this little bit of control back. “You stupid boy,” Severus accused him. “You are a disgusting, shameless ingrate.” Severus raised his hand one final time when Bill grasped it mid-air.

Looking into his eyes, Bill told him the truth, “I need to kiss you now more than I need anything else in this world,” Bill whispered.

Severus gasped. Bill had no more mercy to give. He grabbed Severus by the shoulders and forced him against a nearby wall. Severus winced when his head hit the brick. Bill wasn’t harsh, but he wasn’t gentle either. Before Severus could await a familiar strike, Bill grabbed his chin with a single hand. He released his hold on Severus a second before their lips met. Severus didn’t resist him; whether it was the high adrenaline or weakened willpower, Severus opened his mouth and kissed Bill back. Severus wrapped his arms around him and didn’t fight when the student lifted him and wrapped Severus’ legs around his waist, heels of his feet digging into his ass.

“Severus?” Bill asked when they parted. "What do you want?"

Severus didn’t want to stop kissing to answer. His magic spoke for him when the door to his bedroom opened up. Bill laughed into his kiss as he moved them into the bedroom. Bill dropped Severus’ lightness onto the sheets. When Bill moved on top of his form and reached to undo the buttons on his partner’s shirt, Severus woke up from his dream state and slapped Bill across the face.

“Don’t say a word,” Severus ordered, before pulling the boy down for another kiss. His hand entangled itself into the boy’s red hair, and the locks felt like silk in his hands. His thighs were drenched, and his body was hot, and everything felt so good, he could scream.

“No touching,” Severus breathed out. “On your back.”

Bill raised his hands in surrender as he backed away from Severus and moved to the side. He was smirking at his professor. Severus bit his lip as he admired the young man in front of him. He was gorgeous and, it was unfair what his face did to Severus. The professor climbed on top of his student's hips and reached out to undo the buttons on Bill’s shirt. Severus stopped on the third button to kiss Bill again, using the boy's passion to further motivate his actions. He could still feel Bill’s desire through his touch; his cock pressed against his cunt, his lust filling Severus’ head. Severus’s magic snapped all the buttons apart in impatience.

Bill laughed into their kiss. “I've wanted this forever.”

Severus wanted to hit him again, but he refrained from the urge. Instead, he laid his hands onto Bill’s chest. “I thought I told you not to speak,” Severus reminded as he dug his nails into the young man’s pectorals. Bill hissed but didn’t fight back. Severus reward him by running his hands down before they rested on the opening of his pants.

Severus didn’t wait. He undid the zipper and found Bill’s erection straining out of his boxers. Severus hoped his inexperience wouldn’t be noticeable, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d never touch another cock before. Severus took out the erection and bit his lip to keep himself from moaning. Bill was much bigger than Severus, he was heavier, and he was hotter, and it felt good weighing down his hand. Severus wrapped his hands around his student’s dick and kept his grip firm. 

“I love your hands,” Bill moaned. “You’re so fucking hot. I’m going to come if you keep touching me.”

Severus didn’t scold him for speaking out of turn this time. He liked the praise. He liked how attractive Bill made him feel. He liked the power he got from making this young, handsome man come undone. He wanted more admiration, and he knew how to get it.

Bill watched with wide eyes as Severus let go of his student to take off his black slacks. Severus revealed a pair of tight briefs underneath those pants; it covered both his straining cock and a pulsing pussy that wetted the cotton fabric. It was the closest Bill had ever been to perfection, and the Weasley couldn’t stop the tremble that shook through his body.

Bill couldn’t help himself. He reached out to touch it, that glorious warmth he’d been obsessed with only to get pushed back. Severus latched his hand onto Bill’s throat and squeezed. 

“Please,” Bill choked out. “I have to fuck you.”

Severus’s ego swelled, and it made his cunt drip down his thighs. Bill hitched his breath as the scent overwhelmed him. Severus loved this power. Severus was willing to bet the boy would have done anything to fuck him at this moment, even kill. The satisfaction such knowledge brought tasted like victory and sin.

Severus licked his lips. “Hold still,” he commanded. Severus straddled Bill’s hips and held his cock between his thighs, right underneath his cunt.

“What are you doing?”

Severus almost giggled. He let go of his throat to place both his hands onto Bill’s shoulders for balance. After he was comfortable, he kissed Bill again. When Bill wasn’t mouthing off to him, Severus loved the things that boy could do with his tongue. They kissed for ages, and just when Bill was starting to relax, Severus began to move.

Bill had to break the kiss to moan and curse Severus’ name. “Fuck!”

Severus further tightened his legs to increase the friction. Bill’s cock rubbed against his cunt and cock, edging him along the way. Bill tried to thrust upward, but Severus held him in place as he grinded against the young man's erection. Bill was moaning loudly at the thigh fucking, and his body was shaking from helplessness. Severus was reminded of the past, how the boys in his dorm would hump their pillows and comforters. He thought about how they used to mock him for catching a glimpse, and would sometimes, jokingly suggest he help them out. Severus wondered in retrospect if they were joking at all. If he had been bolder back then, could he have made them go as mad for him as Bill? The possibilities were endless. 

How he could have _used_ them, Severus mused. 

Severus' thoughts were interrupted when Bill managed to move forward for a faster, more dominant grind. He grinned when Severus almost screamed. Severus couldn’t hold back the wanton noise he made, or any of the sounds leaving his mouth. "Ah, ah, ah!" A string of mews escaped his mouth. His clit loved a good rubbing session, but a cock pressing against his hole felt so much better than his own fingers. He continued to rock against Bill, chasing after that tingling sensation along the way.

“Just let me take off your panties, please. Let me have a taste,” Bill begged. “You don’t know how good you look.”

Severus gasped. He wasn’t used to having another person join him for pleasure, and he was never one for physical restraint. Severus tossed his head back, his mouth open and panting, drool was slipping down the sides as his entire form flushed with arousal. In his weakness, he allowed Bill’s magic to tickle the hem of his underwear, and try to drag them down.

The boy’s cock was leaking, and Severus wanted so badly to see how it would feel inside him. He imagined it would split him apart; maybe keep him from walking straight for the next few days. He wondered if he would glow. He thought about the rumors and wondered if his colleagues or students would gossip about who persuaded the frigid professor to spread his legs.

The thought made Severus’ body shake. He loosened his thighs and allowed Bill the honor of thrusting between his legs with more force. His cunt was leaking, his cock on the precipice of completion. Severus himself wanted to be filled. He moaned again, with his back arching as he gripped Bill’s body more tightly and rocked against his student hard, whining for it.

“Severus,” Bill moaned. “I need you.”

Good, Severus thought. He did the most reckless thing he did since teaching and reached below to push his underwear to the side, offering Bill more access than he’d been allowed before. Severus was half-surprised the young man didn’t just thrust all the way when he had the chance. Shock, he supposed. Severus grabbed the cock and moved it towards his pussy, where he rubbed it down his clit and into his hole. He made sure to maintain his grip the entire time, spreading the pre-cum all over him. His fingers were absolutely drenched, but the feeling was fantastic. Bill was cursing up a storm. Severus continued to go faster and faster, getting himself closer to completion, until finally, he pressed the tip into his folds. The penetration, no matter how small, had Severus wailing as his mind went blank, and he came hard at the intrusion. The young man came shortly after, as Severus’ magic forced his pleasure into his head. Bill groaned as his cock spurted out heavy amounts of cum against Severus’ pussy, some of it managed to get inside before Severus released his grip. 

“Shit,” Bill whispered. Severus didn’t respond, his thighs gave out, and his body dropped against Bill’s. Bill pulled at his hair to lift his face up. He was smiling like a mad man, absolutely pleased as he captured Severus’ lips for another kiss. When Severus far too distracted to react, the student flipped his teacher, earning a well-deserved yelp as Severus was laid on his back. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he told Severus.

Severus was stunned. Bill looked down on the man, and his fingers trailed up his shirt and undid his buttons. His magic was opening him up like a present. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me up,” Bill begged. There was not an ounce of deception in his voice, and Severus had never met so much desire and honesty. At that moment, Severus knew this man was going to break his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy this chapter is finally here. I'm really behind on some of my other work, but I'm glad I got this out. Also, as a note, when I was writing the chase scene, I listened to "Twisted Games" by Night Panda. If you imagine that scene with the song in the background with the right slow-motion effects, it really sets the atmosphere. 
> 
> *also, did anyone remember that professor Quirell was a muggle studies professor before he took a year-long hiatus in 1990 and came back to teach DADA with Voldemort on his head? I didn't until I looked up the name of the muggle studies professor for the year 1989, and I was like, "oh that's right."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first Bill "perspective" chapter in the series.

Bill was fucking parched tonight. He came to the dungeons so that he would have “all the time in the world” to work on his professor’s thighs, and he made good on his promise. But no matter how much Bill fondled the man, it was never enough. He felt hunger, but above all, he felt thirst. Severus knew his student wanted every part of his body, but he was unquenchable in respect to his thighs. Bill ran his lips up the cream-tone trees and sucked on the sharpness of salted sweat. His tongue lapped against Severus’s covered sex. He could taste his cum through Severus’ pussy, and the flavor was rich and right. Severus was sticky with sex, and underneath the black silk, Bill could see the beautiful contrast with his pink lips.

Bill got up and pinched the fabric paste onto his professor’s hips. Bill pulled them down to reveal Severus’ groin and was about to uncover the prettiest cock he would ever swallow when the older man released a gasp. His calloused hands grabbed Bill’s wrists.

“Stop,” Severus breathed out. His eyes were pleading with his student to let go.

Bill’s expression became cold. “Are you going to tell me this can’t happen?” Bill pressed his thumbs into Severus’ hipbones. The way the thighs clenched together in response did wonders to the student’s temperament. The adventurer in him was reminded that treasure worth seeking was never without obstacle, but the man in him was growing impatient. Bill’s hands itched. The temptation to wrap them around Severus’ thin, delicate neck was present. He thought about the tightness that would ensue; how Severus' body would clench around his cock to mimic Bill’s hand around his neck. Bill's thoughts became overwhelming as Severus threw his head back to reveal more vulnerable flesh. The transparence of his skin showed the green veins pulsing, pumping the life out of his heart and into his head.

“No,” Severus groaned. His head settled down onto the sheets, and his body laid boneless. “It’s too late for that,” he whispered, defeated. 

All snakes were full of secrets, but to get to them, one had to bypass the deception on his venomous tongue. Bill considered calling Severus out on a lie, but the dreamer in him wanted to believe this wasn’t a trap.

Maybe I am a fool, Bill thought. He kissed Severus on the lips, pushing his tongue through to remember the taste in case it would be his last tonight. “Give me one reason why I’m not inside you right now.”

Severus looks up at him. Bill’s classmates vilified those eyes as a void, but Bill thought they were beautiful.

“I’m not ready,” Severus told him, his voice soft. Those eyes flickered with something he’d never seen on his professor before, but it was an expression Bill recognized.

_Shame. _

“I’ve never been with a man before,” Severus explained.

Bill licked his lips. He figured this was the case, but he welcomed the confirmation. “Just men?”

Severus’ face burned, answering Bill without saying a word. Bill feared his words might have an adverse reaction and reached forward to touch Severus' cheek. His hand drifted dangerously close to the man’s neck, and he won’t lie—Bill couldn’t help but graze the tips of his fingers against his teacher, admiring the shudder the older man gave when he felt those trimmed nails against his flesh. Finally, Bill rested his hand on his professor’s cheek. He was tender. He was loving. He was prepared to do whatever it took to return to this man’s bed in the future.

“You’re supposed to make me want you less,” Bill joked. He smiled, and the smile falsified a warmth that so many teachers and students lauded with princely praises. The smile hid whatever ill-intent he may be feeling. Bill thought to cast a silencing spell to stifle Severus’ protests. He thought about putting him a full body bind. And then he thought about taking him against his will and obliviating him in the aftermath.

Settle down, Bill warned himself. Severus was blocking his thoughts now, but that could change at any moment.

“You can’t tell me I’ll be the first to have you and not expect me to ensure it,” Bill said. 

“I know,” Severus admitted. Bill blinked. He wanted to respond, but his mouth dropped when he noticed Severus staring at him. The black orbs looked like they were melting from the candlelight. Bill couldn’t look away. He was enchanted. His nerves settled down. His muscles relaxed. An unheard song soothed his thoughts. Bill’s eyes never left Severus’, but he didn’t move when Severus got up from the bed. Severus was on his knees and facing his student now.

Recognition flickered in Bill’s eyes before being subdued again. “…Are you charming me?”

Severus nodded. He used one hand to take ahold of Bill’s face and looked down on him. “It’s a _legilimens _spell. It only works when a person’s mind is completely open.”

Bill almost laughed. It was true what they say; he was his own worst enemy.

Instead of fighting the enchantment, Bill grinned lazily; his mind melted into the sheets, and he abandoned all resistance. He wanted to focus on Severus’ eyes. Bill loved the pictures the pools painted. Severus was a masterpiece. The Gryffindor didn’t want to stop staring.

“Will you tell me to leave?”

Severus contemplated his answer. “You would come back,” Severus told him. He got on his debauched legs. Bill felt his wits returned to him while he watched Severus button up his shirt. His cock was still awake, even if his head was holding onto his body like a rotten apple. Severus roused him further when he pulled up his underwear that had sunken past his hips. Bill swallowed to ease his dry throat. His smooth, liquid sensibilities were taking their time stabilizing, but he didn’t need his reason to want Severus.

The older man stopped at the door. “When you’ve returned to your senses, come outside. We need to talk.”

That was not the ‘get out’ Bill expected, but he wasn’t about to complain. His body dropped to the bed—his body gave up on the effort, and he figured he’d save his strength. He admired the ceiling. Bill never noticed the water before, but alone in Severus’ bed, there was nothing else to keep his focus. There was a spell cast to keep the leaks of the lake from falling onto the bed, and it accumulated like raindrops on a windowsill.

“Feels like I’m drowning,” Bill mused.

***

Bill stumbled into the living quarters with a hand massaging his temples. He saw Severus sitting at his dining table, staring into his half-full glass of wine. He looked up when Bill walked closer and turned his attention to the second glass. It was empty until Severus took the bottle and poured Bill a glass.

“No tea?” Bill asked as he took his glass.

Severus took a sip of his red. “This conversation doesn’t call for tea.”

Bill agreed. He sat down across next to Severus and drank his wine.

The two of them stared into nothing. Severus broke the silence. “How did you find out about me?”

Both of them knew what he was alluding to. Bill would rather die than tell the truth. Hell, he was sure he would die because of it. The Gryffindor tried not to lose his cool, but as his mind shuffled for a proper lie, the soothing sensation from earlier returned. He felt senseless—in fact, he was sure his senses were still shaking off the slumber. Severus didn’t seem too eager for his response, either.

“Was this a part of your plan?” Bill asked wryly. “Get me weak so you could interrogate me.” Bill knew he should have waited longer before leaving the bedroom, but the temptation of seeing his professor again was too great. He was at a considerable disadvantage than before, and his physical strength would do him no favors.

“No, but I’d be a fool not to take advantage,” Severus admitted. “And I’m not a fool.” 

“You _want_ this,” Bill retorted. Severus tightened his grip around his glass. He didn’t respond and only repeated his question.

“You started this,” Severus countered. He paused and filled up his glass a millimeter before the rim. “How did you find out about my body?”

Bill swallowed all of his wine in one gulp. It tasted bitter. For a second, he wondered if Severus laced it with _veritaserum_. “That’s not important.”

“It’s important to me,” Severus told him. “Tell me how it happened.”

“Why does it matter?” Bill asked. “I’ve been watching you since I was a kid. I was bound to find out, one way or the other.” 

“You’ve been spying on me,” Severus clarified. “Have you ever watched me in my quarters?” 

“No,” Bill lied. “Never.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “You’re a liar.”

“I’m not,” Bill denied. “I’m not that sort of man.”

“You are,” Severus told him. “That’s exactly the sort of man you are. If you weren’t, I would have never cast that spell on you.”

Bill clicked his tongue in irritation. “Why did you cast that spell on me?”

“Because I feared if I didn’t, you wouldn’t have stopped.”

Bill clenched his fist. “I did stop.”

“No, you paused,” Severus corrected. “You had every intention to violate me tonight; I figured I was due the same honor.”

“You only entered my mind because I let you,” Bill reminded him, heeding Severus’ words from earlier. The spell only worked because Bill allowed it. “Is that the trait of an untrustworthy man?”

“It’s the trait of a man who believes he can take anything he wants without consequence.”

The glass in Bill’s hand shattered. Severus jumped, but Bill paid no mind to the explosion or the blood dripping from his hand.

“If that were true,” Bill hissed, “I wouldn’t have taken this long to get in your bed.”

The wine in his hand was lighter than ever. Severus wished he opted for something a little stronger. Instead of reaching for the liquid clutch, Severus set his glass down. He reached over to grab Bill’s hand and a nearby cloth. He dampened the cloth a spell and began to wipe away the blood. Bill let him.

“Did you know about me before you pursued me?” Severus asked. “About my body?”

Bill chuckled. “Do you think I have a fetish for men with cunts?”

“Do you?”

“No,” Bill shook his head. While Severus leaned forward to clean off the rest of the wound, Bill was able to peer down his shirt. His professor’s nipples were still hard and pink, and Bill wondered what he had to do to get another taste. “The slit between your legs only means I get another hole to claim.”

Severus slapped him across the face.

Bill touched his cheek. He smirked. “You have quite the temper, professor.”

“You think too highly of yourself.” Severus threw the bloodied dishcloth on the table. “I’m going to get the bandages.” He got up from his seat, and Bill followed to grab Severus by the hips and hold him still. Bill pulled the older man closer. Severus looked away. It was a laughable gesture, for it did nothing but earn Bill’s combined ire and amusement. The young man took Severus’ lips for himself. Severus’ mouth was as hot as his sex but far more malleable. Severus opened mouth with more ease than his cunt. Bill’s bloodied handprint was staining Severus’ hips and underwear.

Severus moaned into the kiss. He grabbed the hand holding onto his body but didn’t remove it. If anything, the weight placed on the spot kept the other man from leaving. Severus used his free hand to pull Bill’s face in closer, and Severus swore he purred. The younger man smiled into the kiss, and he continued to smile as they parted. Severus moved his hand right over Bill’s lips in astonishment.

How could a simple touch make him so happy? Severus wondered.

Bill turned his face so he could kiss the palms cradling his face. “I won’t go away,” Bill declared. “You could do whatever it takes to stop me. Curse me. Report me. You could kill me, and my ghost would find the light between your legs.”

Bill cornered Severus. For the first time, the professor saw the dungeon for what it was. The walls were closing in on him, but it was not the threat of captivity that alarmed him, but the allure of it. There were so many ways to trap a person, and Bill was ready to perform them all to keep Severus in his grasp.

“I should stop you,” Severus confessed. Great distress overwhelmed him. “I don’t know how because I don’t want to find out.”

Bill had the nerve to laugh. “We’ve gone too far to stop.” Bill looked like a demon crouching over Severus, his red hair burned like the flames of hell, and his cock was heavy with sin. He was looming over Severus, the man whose submission he demanded, and won through a devil’s bargain. The sight placated Severus. He almost felt like a victim, succumbing to a monster’s whims. 

“You’ll destroy me,” Severus accused; his voice low and soft.

“I’ll love you.”

Severus didn’t believe the two were mutually exclusive.

“I’ve always done the wrong thing,” Severus told him. "This feels wrong." 

“If your crimes could get you a seat in hell,” Bill asked. “What’s one more sin to the repertoire?”

Severus was speechless. Bill took advantage of his surrender. He grabbed the wine bottle and tipped the contents onto Severus’ chest. Severus hissed, but he didn’t fight the gesture. Bill continued to pour until red ran past his thighs and down to his feet. Once it was empty, he was satisfied. 

Bill removed Severus’ shirt until only his underwear was left. Bill licked the wine off his body until he was on his knees and focused on the inside of Severus' legs. Bill’s hands gripped Severus’ underwear and pulled them down to reveal the beloved cock and cunt. Bill breathed on both. The sensation made his pussy lips closed in defense, but a drop of semen left Severus’ cock.

Bill chuckled, “Your cock wants to be touched.”

He licked the wine inside of Severus’ legs, before staring at Severus’ cock. It was as pretty as the rest of him, and Bill looked forward to seeing if it tasted as good as it looked.

Bill lapped the droplets of wine off first, enjoying the twitches against his tongue. Once Severus was half-hard, he lifted the cock into his mouth. It was hot as the rest of him. Bill sucked on the head softly, and it hardened to completion in his mouth. When Severus’ tip touched the opening of his throat, Bill coughed before it could enter. He’d never had a cock inside his mouth before, so he wanted more time to prepare himself. Bill got lucky because act sent a vibration through Severus’ cock, which made him moaned—loudly.

“Oh!” Severus reached forward to grab Bill’s hair for balance. Without a wall behind him, or a bed beneath him, he was standing on pure willpower. His thighs were shaking.

Bill moaned as well. Seeing Severus wrecked with pleasure was a sight he wished to frame, but _feeling_ him get close was a different experience altogether. Severus made shallow thrusts against his face, moaning like a whore the entire time.

“Bill, Bill…” Severus whimpered. Bill bobbed his head up and down the shaft. He was getting hard just listening to Severus, but the taste was unbelievable, as well. For once, his thirst was sated. The student closed his eyes to concentrate on pleasuring his professor. Bill couldn’t believe he got this far, and he couldn’t wait to see how far he could go. One day, he was going to have this man’s cock down his throat and screaming his name in desperation. He was going to have his teacher on all fours, taking his dick from behind and bred. He was going to split the man open anyway he can, and then lick his pussy dry when he was done.

Bill slid his right hand between Severus’ thighs and moved downward to play with his cunt. He massaged the folds gently, as Severus got closer to completion Severus moaned again, the double onslaught was becoming too much. As Bill continued to suck on the dick, his fingers got deeper. He rubbed the insides until three fingers were about to press in the hole.

Severus released a loud groan when Bill penetrated him.

“No, I’m, I’m com…coming…Bill, I…” Severus couldn’t think or speak. He’d never felt anything like this before.

Bill kept on sucking; his fingers never go further than the surface, but the stimulation was getting to the both of them. Saliva and semen covered Severus’ cock and were dripping down Bill’s chin. Everything tasted so good; Bill wondered if anything would compare, except maybe the juices flowing out of Severus’ cunt. Bill longed to have a taste, but he was too busy with the sweet, little cock in his mouth. The sounds Severus was making was more than obscene; it was music.

Severus bent over, unable to hold himself up any further. The head of his cock slid shallowly into the back of Bill’s throat, and this time, he didn’t do anything to fight it. Fortunately, Bill’s inexperience didn’t have the opportunity to be revealed as the brief enclosure around Severus’ tip was enough to bring him into the edge.

“Bill!” Severus’ eyes rolled back. He came right away. His legs tightened, and his body went stiff.

Bill swallowed everything, letting the other man streak his throat. Severus’ dug into the man’s fiery locks—he couldn’t let go if he wanted to. He almost toppled over. He was shaking. He waited for Bill to drain him dry. His thighs trembled around the handsome face. Bill pulled out his fingers, earning another pained, almost animalistic groan, but Bill didn’t release the Severus’ cock just yet. He enjoyed the pulsing and twitching in his mouth — the complete mastery he had over this man’s body from such a simple interaction. 

“Bill…” Severus whined. Bill lifted his eyes. The sight that greeted him almost made him came. Severus was open at this moment. Raw. Vulnerable. He was practically hiccupping in excitement. Heaving out his breaths as if he were dying. He had the appearance of a minted whore.

After there was nothing left to drink, Bill released Severus’ cock. He savored the taste on his tongue. When Bill got off his knees, Severus did the opposite. He fell into Bill’s arms, and the scent of corruption filled Bill’s nostrils. Both men were a mess of sweat, spit, and semen. Bill’s throat was coated and sticky. His mouth was red. Bill was sure he could drink a hundred potions, and the potent taste of Severus would still be on his tongue.

Bill’s cock twitched. He could do this for days, and not be satisfied. He licked his lips, and then the roof of his mouth to the front of his teeth. It wasn’t enough. Bill held onto Severus and carried him to his bed. Severus was still conscious, and after Bill settled into him into his bed, he asked if he could help relieve him.

“I’m still hard,” Bill reminded him. He rubbed the front of his crotch to reveal his erection. He brushed his hand through Severus’ hair. “And I can’t stay the night.”

The greater the risk, the higher the reward. Bill got far tonight, but if he wanted to claim Severus properly, he couldn’t jeopardize his chances by getting caught in the morning. Even with the right excuse, his behavior might revoke his Head Boy privileges or at least put him on watch, and that meant losing the ability to travel through the halls of Hogwarts late at night.

Whether Severus was eager for the experience or too tired to refuse. He nodded. Bill took out his cock and guided Severus’ hand on him. Severus swallowed and started to move up and down the erection, almost in childlike wonder. He didn’t have the best grip or the most skill, but it was Severus Snape, and that made it the best handjob in Bill's life. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you for bearing with me through this unannounced "hiatus." Exams are less than a month and studying and last-minute projects are taking priority. I will try to get as many chapters out before December, but I make no promises. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I never intended to write any chapters in Bill's perspective (he's really hard to write) but it happened and it was fun. The next chapter will get a flashback and more Charlie. I love writing Charlie.


	8. Chapter 8

By his third year, Bill Weasley was almost a foot taller than any of the boys in his class. The ginger grew over the summer like a weed in his second year, all gangly limbs and aching bones when he left for break. Back then, Bill used to have the kind of face that made men look a second too long, all softness and curves. He was pretty. Severus supposed he should have enjoyed it while it last because the Weasley was only a year away from sharpening that face into a jawline made of glass, and cheekbones that could kill. 

Severus supposed his early vulnerability was one of the reasons he joined the Dueling Club as opposed to Hogwarts’s more prestigious Quidditch Team. And it suited him. Bill was one of those patchwork students who made the Sorting Hat sing for them. They always had a number of them every year—some students sat for hours because the Sorting Hat was just so _intrigued_. Severus was a true Slytherin, but he'd watch the Hat go back and forth between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, Gryffindor and Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Slytherin, or sometimes a combination of three or four. Bill didn’t take as long as some Severus had seen, but the Sorting Hat had fun with him. In the end, the enchanted cloth bellowed out ‘_Gryffindor!_’ with such glee that it shook the whole room. Even after their wicked trysts, Severus thought it was a good fit. Bill was courageous and daring and had the sort of recklessness that made his elders clutch their hearts in horror. Quidditch was a violent sport, but it was still a sport, played with a team, winning and losing by that team. There were too many rules for Bill’s liking. Too many safeguards. Dueling, for all its formalities, was as close a simulation to a battle that was reasonably allowed for a student in times of peace.

According to Professor Flitwick, Bill was the best dueler the school had seen in years. A Master Duelist himself, the charms professor had taken a mentorship role in Bill’s life, having seen the boy’s talent as a first-year. He even taught him charms that could help him as a cursebreaker. Severus liked that about Flitwick. He always cared about his student's futures, even when there was no hope for them. He tried, with Bill, and with Severus. And sometimes, his efforts were rewarded because the professor was not mistaken about his assessment of William Weasley. Bill proceeded to win several amateur tournaments in dueling and was set to represent the United Kingdom when he spontaneously withdrew. Despite that setback, Bill’s popularity soared. 

Naturally, it wasn’t long before Bill was subjected to his upperclassmen’s jealousy. With the competition, and being made prefect and no doubt Head Boy in the future, Bill was a supernova without any signs of cooling down. Bottoms feeders were always eager to feast on the corpse of a whale, especially when they thought it made them a shark.

They were the reason Severus caught the eldest Weasley rummaging through Severus’ potion cabinets after hours in his fifth year. The boy was wearing his prefect’s badge, all shiny and bright in the darkness. It was the perfect disguise for anyone who wanted to know what the boy was doing so late at night. 

“Abusing your powers already?” Severus asked, feeling sickeningly satisfied when the boy startled and nearly knocked over all the bottles on the shelf. Vials fell to the ground and shattered, and it was louder due to the silence of the night. Severus lit all the candles with a flick of his wand. Severus walked forward menacingly. The Slytherin was prepared to strip the boy of his dignity, and possibly his position when the light revealed his face.

The professor stopped in his tracks.

Bill’s face looked like it’d been dragged across every graveled plain on the school. His skin was bluer than not, and dried blood stained his swollen lip, and the bottom of his broken nose. When he walked forward, there was a limp in his step, and it was clear that he was struggling to hide the rest of his broken bones. Severus’ smugness faded, and what was left was fury. He quickly helped the boy to a nearby chair and inspected the injuries more thoroughly.

“What happened?” Severus’ hands flew to the boy’s shirt, colored rustically from the dirt and dried blood. The professor hastily unbuttoned the top. While Severus examined the startlingly hard chest, he was relieved to see there were no external wounds.

The blood must have come from his face, Severus thought to no greater relief. 

Bill was silent at first. Severus wondered if he would have to use his _personal_ methods to pry, when Bill answered, “I was attacked.” He smiled at Severus. 

“I can see that,” Severus responded coldly. Had he less experience with the first years, he would have smacked the boy for his sass. “Who attacked you?”

“I’m afraid I’ve made a few enemies. Can’t remember all their names.”

All? At least Severus knew it was a group effort. “Try remembering one.”

Bill had the audacity to smile. “I’m afraid my head hurts too much to think." 

Your head will hurt more once I'm done with you, Severus thought, annoyed. 

“Were they Slytherins?” Severus had a preference for his house, but he wouldn’t offer leniency for an attack as barbaric as this.

"If I said yes, would you actually punish them?" 

"Watch your tongue," Severus warned. 

"I'm too busy watching you."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Save the wit for the Ravenclaws.”

Bill shook his head and laugh. He stopped when his ribs hurt, prompting Severus to get some wet cloth and cleaning solvent. Once his supplies were in order, he lifted Bill’s face up. Despite the mauling, Bill was still a good-looking kid. Severus frowned when he realized that after he healed, the scars would only give him character.

How blessed this child was, Severus thought. His housemates must be seething in jealousy, and that thought spurred another suggestion. “A bit of in-house fighting?” Severus asked. He felt smug when Bill’s smile dropped. He opened his mouth to lie, but Severus cut him off. “Did they at least tell you the reason for this?”

Bill frowned completely. “Does it matter?” He sounded suspicious, and Severus didn’t blame him. He knew what a proper teacher would do in this circumstance, but Bill was fortunate that Severus was far from proper.

“No,” Severus agreed. “The less I know, the easier it will be to play ignorant to your plans.” He wouldn’t take pleasure punishment a boy for performing his right. All pretend predators deserve a lesson in prey.

Bill was taken back. “I don’t have any plans.”

Severus scoffed. “You won’t let them get away with this.” 

“Maybe I will,” Bill countered.

Severus raised an eyebrow.

“Forgiveness is divine,” Bill added. “That’s what muggles say, don’t they?”

“If your ambition is godly, I will have words with the Sorting Hat about your misplacement.”

Bill laughed, and it was truly a wonderful laugh. Not overly loud or obnoxious. The kind of laugh that made you smile as well.

After Severus finished wiping away Bill’s body, he pointed the wand at Bill’s chest to cast a healing spell. It was more primitive than something a professional healer could accomplish, but it was well above decent. Severus was used to fixing broken bones.

Bill sighed in relief when he moved his arm. He touched his face, and when he realized that he had also been healed, he grinned. “You’re brilliant, professor.”

Severus turned to clean his supplies before Bill could see him flush. He hated how weak he was to kindness, and it was worst when the praise was spoken with such blatant sincerity. Instead of accepting the compliment, Severus warned Bill to not let him catch him thieving again. 

“Of course, professor,” Bill smiled to himself as he cradled his once-broken wrist. “I finish my battles.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s the Dueling Club motto,” Severus said dryly, before he paused. He looked back at Bill. The boy was straightening himself out. Severus continued to stare at his student as he recalled the various injuries on Bill’s body.

Like most wizarding schools, Hogwarts curriculum centered around providing students with the basics of a magical education. The hope was that most, if not all, would obtain apprenticeships or continue their advance studies elsewhere following graduation. Severus himself had been a potions apprentice for a year under a world-renowned wizard—one who was later imprisoned for his supposed ties to Lord Voldemort. While students were taught the basic offensive spells in apprehending dark wizards, the majority of the Defense Against the Dark Arts teachings were just that—defensive. A normal student wouldn’t know the spells to inflict the sort of wounds on Bill’s body.

A student in the Dueling Club, however, would.

“Was it all the members in your club? Or just the upperclassmen?”

Bill looked up, surprised. There was a flicker in his eyes that told Severus he was contemplating a lie, before he gave up and shrugged. “Most of the upperclassmen, one or two were in my year if I remember correctly—and I think there were a few novices they managed to convince to watch. Them, I’ll let off with a warning.” Apparently, the big brother instinct in him was still intact, though Severus doubted the warning would be entirely without violence.

“Why not report this to Professor Flitwick?” Severus asked. “Surely, he’ll take your side.”

Bill revealed that Professor Flitwick was a good man. “He’ll report it to Dumbledore, and we were warned last year that one more serious injury and the entire club might be disbanded. Can’t let that happen.”

Severus recalled hearing about that during one of their teacher’s meetings. Madame Pomphrey was one of the main advocates against its destruction. He shook his head. “The war is over, Mr. Weasley. The need for a Dueling Club has expired.”

Bill shrugged. “Maybe, but I’m not using it to prepare for war.”

“What are you using it for?”

Bill touched his throat and stood up. “Professor Snape, my throat is a bit dry. Do you mind if I return to my dorms for some water? I—”

Severus sent him falling back to his seat with a spell. “Don’t flee. It’s unbecoming. And cowardly,” he added last minute, hoping to appeal to Bill’s Gryffindor nature.

Bill had the nerve to sigh. “It’s not a big deal. I just get a little…intense sometimes with my magic.” 

“Intense?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “You mean dark—”

“I mean, _intense_,” Bill interrupted defensively. Severus was taken back. He’d never been cut off by a student before, and before he could snap a curse onto the boy’s pretty face, the eldest Weasley continue his explanation. “Because we sometimes compete with different nations, Professor Flitwick likes to teach us offensive magic from other countries. Some I like more than others.”

“Do you?” Severus scoffed. 

“They’re more…aggressive. But not dark,” Bill hastily defended. “Professor Flitwick won’t teach us that magic.”

Severus was immediately reminded of Durmstrang Institute and their emphasis on the Dark Arts. Their students always placed in the international tournaments—if they weren’t disqualified in the semifinals for their brutality. Normally, the thought of a Hogwart’s student going against any boy or girl Karkaroff trained would have brought shivers to his spine, but Severus was confident Bill would be okay.

“You were supposed to represent the country in the tournament last year. You withdrew. Why?”

Bill didn’t answer at first before he nodded. “Yeah, I did. I told everyone my family couldn’t afford the entrance fees.”

“And what’s the truth?”

The student smiled. “You know I’ve lied to everyone, but I feel like if I did it to you, you’d figure me out, so I’m thinking what’s the point?”

“The point is: don’t lie to me.”

Bill released a breathless laugh, before revealing that there was an investigation to his ‘questionable spellcasting.’ “They suspected I was using forbidden magic. Our ministry doesn’t look fondly on the Dark Arts.” That was an understatement, Severus thought. The Ministry of Magic forbade their citizens from using Dark methods, even when they were outside the country’s lines. It was hell when they competed overseas, and it was torture when they fought in the war. “I wasn’t,” Bill said immediately. “Just some curses I found in old books. Things that don’t fall under the Dark Arts.”

“Because they’ve never been classified, not because they don’t qualify,” Severus corrected. He would know better than anyone, having done the same once upon a time.

“Well.” Bill shrugged. “I didn’t want them looking too much into me, and even if I had gone, I would have used the same spells. There’d be talk. More trouble than it’s worth really.”

“Smart,” Severus agreed. He meant it, too. “Hogwarts’ education is rather…_juvenile_. If I had it my way, the Defense Against the Dark Arts would actually be teaching you something about Dark Arts, instead of letting you all be led to the battlegrounds like lambs to the slaughter." Severus could go for hours about how the restrictions only made him yearn for the power more, and how every jeer and rejection from his classmates led him further to the arms of the pureblood thrall and away from the light that was supposed to save him.

It did make him stronger, though.

“When you leave Hogwarts, I suggest you look into a career overseas.” Severus told Bill. “They’re more welcoming there.”

“Any recommendations?” Bill asked. “Someplace you like?” The boy’s familiar charm was back, and Severus was tempted to smile back. 

He didn’t.

Instead, Severus wondered about his answer. He done a few trips for Voldemort in his time but kept to himself during those excursions. He did have a few places he minded less than the others, and he remembered there were countries he wanted to explore if he had the time. Thinking about what he wanted only made him yearn for what he lost, and Severus protected himself by thinking of the one place he hoped never to see again. 

“I don’t like cold places,” Severus answered at last. 

Bill’s gorgeous face broke out to another, blinding smile.

“Okay. Somewhere warm, then,” Bill agreed, as if he were making plans for the both of them.

Severus didn’t think much of his statement after that.

Two days later, a group of boys was sent to the Hospital Wing with a terrible fever. Madame Pomphrey was the most panicked Severus had ever seen her as she ran from bed to bed, giving them fever treatments as they expelled their waste from all ends and ointments for the blistering sores on their bodies. On the surface, their infliction looked to be nothing more than a terrible disease, and after further investigation, it was found that the boys had come across a rare, but poisonous plant that had spontaneously grew near a spot they regularly hung out at. Severus recognized the plant at once and dashed to his dungeons only to find his seeds missing. 

Severus wondered in awe of the boy with the bruised face and bloodied nose who had stolen from right under his nose. Severus knew then, with a twisted admiration and desire, that Bill Weasley was a force to be reckon with, and he feared the man he would become. 

***

Years later, in Bill’s seventh year, Severus heard a rustle in his dungeons. He called out Bill’s name tiredly, hoping to keep the irritation in his voice firm after Bill had once again chosen to look for him in his classroom rather than his quarters. The last time he did so, Bill made a rather convincing speech about how he waited in his rooms but couldn't resist him any longer. Then, he sucked Severus' nipples raw and came all over Severus' chest. They had yet to be caught together after dark, but Severus loathed the day he would have to lie about their relationship. He didn’t need Dumbledore’s suspicious, and he would be especially tedious if he thought Severus was corrupting one of his precious Gryffindors.

“Bill?” Severus called out again when there was no answer.

The sound of fallen vials rang through his ears, followed by a panicked “bloody hell!” A wave of déjà vu passed Severus as the hairs on his back stood up at full attention. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t Bill’s.

Charlie Weasley stumbled out his cellar cabinets with a t-shirt on backwards and a large red mark on his neck. If Severus didn’t know better, he would assume he and another student were engaged in some sort of _congress_, but this was Charlie Weasley. Bill had spoken about his brother, and the consensus was that Charlie was even less interested in the student body than Bill.

“Mr. Weasley, what are you doing here?”

Severus half expected a lie, when Charlie blurted out that he was attempting to steal his healing potions. The student blushed like a fire-berries, and he stumbled over his words as he tried to rectify his wording. Severus had the decency to be stunned silent as Charlie continued his rant about _rugby_ of all things, and how Madame Hooch had forbidden the students from practicing Quidditch in the rain, and the Captain decided he wanted to keep up their conditioning by playing the muggle sport. Rugby was well known even in the wizarding world, and even Lucius Malfoy admitted to feeling sadistic glee whenever the pureblood watched the muggles get tackled in a game. 

Charlie explained it was working great until some of the students started getting injured. “I bore the brunt of the damage, I swear!” Charlie told him hastily as he _took off his shirt_ to show Severus. Severus tried to find the words to stop him, but they died on his lips when he actually saw Charlie’s body.

Unlike his older brother, Charlie’s attractiveness was rather primitive. He was short and stocky, and looked bigger than all his brothers due to the muscles on his chest and arms. His face was weather beaten from his outdoor activities, and his body was riddled with scars from his intense work with the magical creature’s professor, and his own, unique adventures outside of school. There was not a spot on his body not covered by freckles or callouses, but they only served to add an appearance of virility. He was…_fit_, to say the least.

Worst for Severus, _he looked like Bill. _

That fucking red hair, Severus thought as he drew closer to his student. They would be meeting at this time, probably fondling each other in Severus’ chambers. Bill’s mouth would be on Severus neck, while Severus’ hands would be laced in that long, red hair, or his nails would be scraping down his student's back. Bill joked he hadn’t taken a public shower in weeks, and that always made Severus flushed in unholy ways.

Charlie took a step further to show the red mark on his neck. Severus wished he could tell him to leave, but then he got so close, Severus could feel his breath on his skin. “This is the worst one. I just needed some salve. I saw you use it a few classes ago to fix a scalding wound.”

You boys need to stop watching me, Severus wanted to scold. But he knew Charlie didn’t mean any harm. Severus had gotten familiar with detecting lust in a man’s voice, and he knew Charlie didn’t want him that way.

Severus should have reported him for attempting to steal, but history had proven he’d never been good at doing that to a Weasley. Instead, Severus reached forward to touch the boy’s face. He had meant to aim for Charlie’s neck, where the injury was, but his hand was just drawn to that face. Charlie seemed surprise at first, but he didn’t move.

“You have your brother’s eyes,” Severus mumbled. He moved his hand down to his lips. Charlie had Bill’s lips, too. They were poutier, though, but just as dry. Curious because Bill was a smoker, and Charlie was clearly not. His thumb pressed against those familiar lips, and Severus heard a hitch in Charlie’s breath. His body was getting hotter, and that drew Severus’ attention to his chest. Severus hand moved down to touch. He bit his lip at the feel of those firm, hard muscles.

He felt a little like Bill, too.

“Professor?”

Severus snapped out of his thoughts. Charlie was looking at him, concern, but smiling, regardless of whatever tension was in the room. He smiled differently from Bill, despite having the same mouth. He was far more earnest.

Severus backed away at once and coughed to clear his throat. “Your injuries don’t look so bad. I’ll give you a can of my salve so you can go kill yourself another day.”

Severus almost ran into the other room to fulfill his promise. He grabbed the salve mentioned earlier, and when he came out, Charlie was still shirtless. “Are you okay, professor?”

Severus threw him the can, not trusting himself not to touch. “I’m better than you,” Severus snapped. He pushed his hair behind his ear. His breath was a little short, and he was sure he was red. Fuck, he was so damn _wet_—.

Severus winced when he heard Charlie come closer to him. He was tempted to send him flying, when another student popped his head in. Probably the rescue dog in case Charlie took too long. “Hey, Charlie, McGonagall wants to see—" The student paused when he saw the scene before him. Charlie was shirtless and standing so close to Severus, their lips could touch with just a push. It didn’t help that Severus was squirming in his place, struggling to keep his wetness from dripping. When Severus saw the look in the other boy’s eyes, there wasn’t only fear there, there was _interest_.

Shit.

Charlie turned to face his friend. Severus knew he couldn’t stay any longer, and took the opportunity to storm out of the room. When he was in his quarters, the air didn’t return to him. Instead, Severus was wrecked with excess heat. He took all his clothes and redressed himself into his skimpiest summer robe. Severus looked at himself in the mirror, all flushed out like a hungry whore. He used to hate his image, and now all he thought about was how far he needed to go to make Bill lose control. He was pushing down on his clit a bit to relieve the pressure building inside when he heard a knock on the door.

Severus didn’t wait to close his robe in case of a stranger. He swung the door open and couldn’t hold back his relief when he saw it was Bill. Severus ignored the look on Bill's face and was deaf to the sweet, shameless compliments to his form. Instead, the older man pulled Bill down for a kiss and wrapped his legs around his lover's waist so that the younger man could carry him to the bedroom.

Severus wanted to be worshipped tonight.

***

As Severus stripped Bill of his dressing, the younger man had the nerve to question his behavior. “You’re so affectionate today,” Bill told him. He was breathless with happiness. “Should I be worried?”

Severus glared at him. “Do you only like it when it hurts?” Desperation was clearly on his tongue. 

Bill laughed and shook his head. He kissed Severus again and again, until Severus couldn’t stop thinking about anything but being in his arms. Severus was laid up on the bed, while Bill’s tongue ran south. Severus sighed and arched his back as Bill’s hands landed on his thighs and pushed them apart.

“You’re so beautiful down here,” Bill marveled. “Such a pretty, pink cunt.” Untouched by any man as long as Severus had lived, and now being fondled by a child in his bedroom. Severus curled his toes thinking about it, and it was such a sickening, pleasurable thought that he practically jumped when he felt Bill’s first lick. His already wet pussy was making a mess on the sheets, and it would leave Bill’s lips red and swollen by the end of the night.

“So fucking good,” Bill was mumbling, as he continued to eat up as much as Severus’s cunt as he could. The student dug his tongue deep into the sopping hole and took his time to taste the walls and licks as much as he could. When he could find the willpower to pull away, Bill focused entirely on Severus sweet little clit, lapping onto to it like an overgrown dog.

“Bill….” Severus moaned. He pushed his hips further onto Bill’s, earning a chuckle from the younger man. Severus could feel the vibrations against his cunt. Right before he was about to come, Bill wrapped his lips around the much smaller and clit and became to nurse on it. He sucked onto it and lapped at it, until Severus couldn’t take anymore. He came, his juices gushing all over the sheets and his lover’s face without decency.

Severus was still catching his breath when he gathered the strength to look down. There he saw, the pleased but unsatisfied expression on Bill’s face. His cock was rock hard, but really caught Severus’ attention was the slick and spit that completely covered Bill’s chin. Severus knew the younger man still wasn’t satisfied, and before Severus could offer to help, Bill abandoned the now aching clit to go back to the wet folds. He continued to spend most of the night in-between teasing Severus’s clit or eating out his pussy, and didn’t seem to rest for a second, even with Severus was too sore to go one.

Severus begged Bill to stop once or twice, but when he did, Bill responded by attacking his clit with more ferociousness. Severus felt used and worn out despite not moving a muscle. When Severus was on his third orgasm, he felt like he’d been drugged with pleasure. Bill was still going strong, and his cock was in a grip in his hand.

On the verge of losing it, Severus swore he heard Bill joke about taking him while he slept as a reward, and then lost his will not to come. Severus passed out on his fourth orgasm, and he knew that still wasn’t going to satisfy Bill.

***

When Severus woke up that morning, he was alone. Bill had gone back to his dorms per usual, and though it was Severus’ adamant request that he never be in his chambers past a certain hour, he couldn’t help but feel a certain bitterness towards his abandonment. He felt like a whore, having been given pleasure only to be left in bed, naked and full of filth.

The only saving grace was the note. Bill liked to leave notes before he left, sometimes wishing him a good night, other times telling Severus that he looked forward to their next meeting, or that he would miss Severus and his beautiful body while he slept. They always ranged from wholesome to whorish, and it brought a thrill every time Severus read them. Today, there was a note on his dresser tellign him to go outside for a belated meal. Severus felt his thighs weaken at the thought of walking, before the emptiness in his stomach overcame the soreness in his cunt. He managed to stumble onto the dining room table, where a nice, simple meal of soup and vegetables had been prepared for him in case he woke. Dinner had long past, and he was ravenous. As he ate, he noticed there was another note for his meal.

It was rather romantic, and Severus hated how pleased he was that he could make a man go through such lengths to make sure he appreciated. As Severus read Bill’s words to eat well and have a good night sleep, he was surprised by the additional request that he keep his weekend opened for a “proper date.”

Severus stared at the words. A date? The incredulousness of the request had Severus frozen for several minutes. He tossed the letter on the table, but before he could get back to his meal. His eyes lingered on the paper. Severus had never been on a date before, and though the risk of getting caught was enough for Severus to at least plan his refusal, the temptation of being courted lingered in his thoughts. He didn’t mind the idea of a date itself. A dinner outside of Hogwarts, cooked by real cooks instead of beaten down elves. A lover’s stroll that a range of quaint houses or a nice park. The thought was nice, and wholesome and nothing Severus was particularly accustomed to.

Though, Severus thought as he sipped some wine Bill had poured for him. This was likely a ploy to get him into bed. The potions master did not doubt a hotel room would be waiting for them at the end of their date. Severus had made it clear, time and time again, that nothing could happen while Bill was in school. 

Thinking about it further, Bill's strategy was a smart one. He was of age. People may have turned their heads at their relationship, but they couldn’t legally do anything about it. Hogwarts had a strict policy against student-teacher relationships, so at best, his job was doomed, but there were no legal repurcussions. Severus imagined he would do whatever Bill planned for them, watch the simple show he selected, eat the fancy dinner he reserved, only to offer his cunt at the end. 

Asking Severus out just to fuck him made more sense than anything else, and Severus was nothing but a man of reason. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, and thank you for making through the hiatus was patience. I'm starting to deviate from my outline (just a tad), but this story is pretty much planned out, it's just a matter of writing it (so this story is in a lot better condition than my other stories where I make the outlines as I go). 
> 
> The next chapter is not the date chapter (which is Chapter 10). Next chapter we get to see the professors interacting, jealousy, and a lot of violence. I hope you enjoy!


	9. Chapter 9

Severus attended a professor’s meeting the evening before his date. While administration was not the least appealing part of his job, it was by far the most tedious. No matter how often Severus claimed that his time was better off coming up with lesson plans or grading assignments, Dumbledore and the rest were adamant Severus stay to discuss whatever insipid issue they thought was important. Last week, it was about budgets, and whether Hogwarts could spare a few thousand crystals for Trelawney’s equinox celebration. This week, Quirrell had some dire news about the “morality of the student populace.”

The Potions Masters seated himself next to McGonagall. Shortly after he sat down, Septima Vector, the arithmancy professor, went to his side. Like Minerva and himself, Septima was raised in a muggle household. Unlike her half-blood companions, she was muggleborn and even went to study at a muggle university following her graduation at Hogwarts. Severus was surprised when she came back as an educator. Septima was a few years younger than him, and though she was still a student when he started teaching, Septima didn’t take potions for her NEWTS. Severus found her tolerable compared to most of the teaching staff, perhaps because of the comradery they somewhat shared. Both born within the same generation. Both widely knowledgeable about a world many considered foreign. Truthfully, he didn’t believe Septima liked anyone, but she certainly hated Severus and Minerva less than the others.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t let this go,” Septima muttered when she sat down. “It’s bad enough I had to hear about it throughout breakfast…”

Before Severus could ask, Quirrell stood up to announce his grievance. “I have some dire news regarding the virtue of our students.” 

There was mostly silence in the room. At best, a loud gasp from their token charlatan, and a few raised eyebrows from the rest of the staff. Everyone remained calm. They stared at him.

Quirrell coughed nervously. He must have expected more than their deadpan stares. The muggles studies professor pulled out a book from his cloak. Severus’ eyes widened when he saw it.

_Leaves of Grass_ by Walt Whitman. His copy.

Fuck, Severus thought.

“I confiscated it from a student this afternoon. He claims he found it in his dorms; said he nicked it from one of the older boys. Now, I docked points for the thievery, since he seems to be telling the truth…” Quirrell rattled on. While he continued his needlessly long recant of the events, Severus sighed in relief. The Slytherin glanced over at Dumbledore, who was listening with great amusement. Like many of the professors, the headmaster didn’t seem to find any harm in the discovery.

Severus tried not to snort. Of course, he wasn’t in any danger. Dumbledore wouldn’t let him off so easily if he knew about him and Bill.

“It’s mine,” Severus interrupted before he could listen to anymore prattling. Quirrell was rightfully frightened of him. 

All eyes turned on him—this time, they were surprised. Quirrell stuttered out his shock. “Y-y-yours?”

Severus did not let a single emotion escape his face. “My name should be written on the back if you had bothered to check.”

Quirrell made a sputtering noise before turning to the back of the book. Judging by the size of his eyes, Severus was right. “Yours?” Quirrell repeated.

“I lent it to Mr. Weasley,” Severus explained. His tone was cold. “His father has a fascination with muggles. He asked me to lend him a book. I told him to pick one from my library.”

“You had this in your library,” Quirrell asked. He sounded aghast and pitchy as a pixie. “And you let a student take it?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “It’s a book of hymns. Not dark magic.”  
“Hy—are you pretending to be ignorant of the contents of your possession?” Quirrell looked like he was about to work himself to an aneurysm. “This book is filled with filth. It’s not only improper to lend this to a student, but immoral!”

Someone from behind busted out laughing; Severus looked to his left and said that it was Septima looking like she’d heard the world’s best joke. Everyone turned to her. When she saw the grave looks on their faces, she settled down. “You’re serious? I had to read Whitman for university. I swear, the only immorality there was how boring it was. A hundred stanzas of pure rubbish.” She turned to Severus. “No offense.”

The offense was taken, but he almost immediately forgot about it when Quirrell went on another tangent about the legality of the material.

“Legality?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "What legality? It’s poetry. There aren’t even pictures.”

Minerva cleared her throat. “Severus, the wizarding world forbids any explicit material. Literature is not excluded from the law.”

Severus couldn’t bother to be shocked. He sighed at the revelation. Bill had a knack for getting him in trouble, even with laws he didn’t know existed. “Are you telling me that prostitution is legal in the wizarding world, and my book is not?”

A few professors released an embarrassed noise at the comparison. Severus knew he was crude when he said it, but he certainly had a point. A man could buy a Knockturn Alley whore for a gallon without an Auror blinking an eye, but purchasing a picture of a half-naked woman would lead to a cell in Azkaban. Several professors shut whatever arguments they were tempted to make at once.

“Not all books,” Flitwick pointed out, though there was enough leeway in his voice to make it clear he didn’t wholly disagree with Severus and only wanted to correct. “Simply ones with suggestive topics.”

“Duly noted.” Severus got up from his seat and walked straight to Quirrell. The mousy excuse of a man almost shrieked when Severus snapped the book out of his hands and took it back. “I’ll be sure to expose of it before I corrupt any more students.”

Several people looked at each other.

Dumbledore spoke next. “It is important to note that it is not only the nature of the book that makes it forbiddenbut the content.”

“What does that mean?” Severus grimaced. 

“The book was written about muggles.”

“The writer was a muggle,” Severus agreed sharply. “That goes without saying.” 

“Therein lies the problem.” Dumbledore stood up and walked towards Severus. “Given your history, I see why you are confused. Professor Quirrell could have been clearer about his concerns.” The man in question released a soft, pleading noise of embarrassment. Severus glared at the man before him. How could anyone trust such a fraud? “Hogwarts has a strict policy against the exploitation of muggles.”

Severus stared at the men. 

“Our rules are in place to protect the muggleborn and halfblood populace who raised outside of the wizarding world. There are many…_beliefs_ that we, as an institution, have not been able to completely filter out.” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with an ever-burning light. “Dangerous beliefs.”

Severus tried not to run away from the fire. He swallowed and tightened his fists. “What sort of beliefs are those?” He asked, angry even before he knew the answer.

Dumbledore almost smiled. “I’m surprised you have to ask.”

Given your background, Severus heard in his head.

Severus clenched his fist. The Slytherin could have killed him. The only thing stopping him was Minerva standing up and telling everyone to settle down so that they could have a sensible conversation on what to do.

“There is a bigger issue at hand than Severus accidentally lending out a book,” Minerva announced, much to the surprise of the other professors. “We’ve been skirting around the issue for too long, and it’s time we addressed it.”

“Address what?” Severus asked, hate fuming in his words. “That the wizarding world thinks all muggleborns and halfbloods are whores?”

“Not all halfbloods,” the absolutely, fucking useless Defense Against the Dark Arts professor pointed out. “Just the ones raised by muggles.”

“Like me,” Severus sneered.

The man shrunk.

Quirrell tried to say his peace. “We’re not talking about you, Severus. It’s just that, well, this reputation didn’t come out of anywhere. I’ve been researching them for years; My grandmother was a muggle, may her soul rest in peace, but it’s baffling how they grow. I mean, look at the number of them! They mate—”

A collective groan could be heard in the meeting. Quirrell turned white when he realized he said the wrong thing. Again.

“I-I—" 

“I think you should take a lesson from the muggles,” Septima suggested. “Some sex education might be what our school needs.”

Many balked at her statement.

Septima crossed her arms in defiance. “Something needs to be done about our dismal fertility rates. It won’t be long before our elderly outnumber our births. Just last week I was going over the numbers with one of my students—”

“You’ve talked to students about this?” Quirrell asked, horrified by the notion.

"Mr. Weasley,” Septima revealed without hesitation. “Is the first of seven children, I’m sure he knows how sex works.”

Severus hoped no one could see his flush when she said that.

“Sex is a normal urge. It is enjoyable if you know what you’re doing, and rather unpleasant if you don’t. We shouldn’t shame it,” Septima said, in a rather accusatory tone to Professor Quirrell. “If anything, we should educate our students so that they make responsible, and dare I say, _productive_ decisions in the future. ”

“I’m afraid I agree with Professor Quirrell on this,” said Professor Sprout. “Such education is better left for the parents.”

More professors voiced their agreement. All of them from wizarding families who no doubt kept them ignorant for many, many years. Almost all of them were childless. Severus glanced over at Minerva, who remained as stony as always. He could tell Septima was becoming petulant.

“Information should be accessible to the students. I’m not saying we should fund trips to brothels, but a pamphlet on anatomy isn’t an unreasonable request.” Septima protested, much to the horror of her fellow peers. Severus couldn’t help it—he snorted loudly. Even Minerva seemed amused by everyone’s pale expressions. 

Due to the noise, Dumbledore turned his attention to Severus. “Do you agree with her, Severus?”

Minerva saved Severus from answering.

“Regardless of our decision, the ministry has to approve the curriculum. I doubt they’ll be so accommodating to such changes.” Minerva got up from her chair, signaling the end of this meeting before Dumbledore could offend her fellow house head. “It was they who made the laws, after all.” She glanced over at Severus’ book. “I think we can all agree that a more intricate introduction to muggle culture wouldn’t be remiss. Perhaps new reading material should be considered.”

Minerva gave Dumbledore a look daring him to contradict her. He merely smiled. “Nicely put, Professor McGonagall.” He clapped his hands together. “Well, I supposed the matter should be pushed away for the future. I will, however, advise Professor Snape to be more cautious in the future.” The great wizard peered down on his former student, and it took all of Severus’ willpower to suppress the shiver down his spine.

“We wouldn’t want our students to develop any wicked thoughts towards us.”

***

Severus made a stop at his classroom before he went home. Charlie Weasley was waiting for him, and it worried the Slytherin more than he cared to admit that he wasn’t surprised. The ginger took one look at the book in his hand and thanked Merlin out loud.

“I’m so sorry!” Charlie apologized frantically. He sprinted towards Severus like a diricawl on the hunt and swiped the book out of his professor’s hand. Charlie had none of the suave or grace of his older brother. He was a man of action and purpose, and in all honesty, Severus couldn’t fault him for that. “I took the book from Bill’s drawer, thinking it was one of his old notebooks—he has the best notes, you see, and normally he keeps them organized, but he must have moved them, so I went all over looking for them, and I guess I panicked, they’re all small, like this one, so I grabbed it, and when I saw it wasn’t it, I went back to look for it, and by the time I came back, it was gone—”

“It’s fine,” Severus cut him off. He’d had enough babbling from Quirrell. “Does Bill know it’s missing?”

Charlie stared at him for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

He was too good to this family. Severus handed the book over. 

“Professor?”

“Here.”

Charlie looked uncomfortable. “Professor Quirrell—”

“—Will have to answer to me if it gets confiscated again,” Severus cut him off. “Try not to lose it this time.”

Charlie took the book. Instead of counting his blessings, he looked up at Severus. “You two are close, aren’t you?”

Severus froze. “What?”

“My brother. You call him Bill, instead of Mr. Weasley.” Charlie gave him a little smile. “And you even lend him books from your library.”

Severus swallowed. “Your brother is a good student. He doesn’t cause me trouble, which is more than I can say for you.”

Unlike Bill, Charlie burned when he was embarrassed. Severus found it endearing, given the teenager’s sheer girth of his body. He looked more like a man than Severus did, perhaps even more than his brother if it weren’t for his baby-faced expressions.

“I’m sorry.” 

Severus almost groaned. He wondered where Bill’s bite came from, considering his brother’s placidity. “You should go back to your dorms before Bill finds out. He won’t be happy if he learns you took my book.”

Charlie bit his lip and then lowered his head and nodded. “Yes, Professor Snape,” he agreed. The Quidditch player moved towards the door with the book in hand. As soon as Charlie passed his professor, Severus felt a nagging at the back of his head. The professor looked over at the boy’s back. He couldn’t help himself. 

“How are your injuries, Mr. Weasley?”

Charlie jumped. He turned around, rather sheepish. “Uh, it’s getting better. I barely feel a thing, and my flying’s still top-notch, so no complaints from the captain. It’s harder to help out Professor Kettleburn, but I think he’s noticed, so he hasn’t been giving me the usual workload.” 

Severus frowned. “You assist Professor Kettleburn?”

Charlie brightened up at the mention. “Yeah, Bill arranged a work-study for me last year, as he does with Professor Flitwick. The money’s not much, but it’s better than nothing, and I’d do the work for free, honest. The experience is worth it. I even got to see a Common Welsh Green Professor Kettleburn snuck in—” Charlie clamped his mouth shut. He looked horrified at the slip-up, and Severus couldn’t help but be amused. His lips twitched uncontrollably as Charlie begged him not to say anything. “Please don’t tell anyone.” 

“It’s fine,” Severus agreed. Kettleburn’s habit of dragging in dangerous and unnecessary creatures was an open secret amongst the staff. Severus looked over Charlie’s body once more. He did seem fine, but the injuries were rather serious, last he remembered. Severus took a step closer and pressed his hand on where he remembered the most prominent bruise use to be. Charlie jolted, but it wasn’t out of pain like before.

“I suppose you look alright,” Severus admitted, giving the muscle another gentle squeeze. Charlie made a noise. When Severus looked up to inspect his face, the boy had clammed up again. Fortunately, there was no obvious pain.

“Everything is good,” Charlie breathed. “Thank you again, professor.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Severus countered. “I won’t be so kind a second time.”

“I doubt that,” Charlie joked. He leaned in for a closer look at his professor. “I think you’re secretly a softie.”

Charlie expected many reactions. The first of which was a glare fierce enough to match any dragon. Instead, from the proximity of their faces, he could see Snape’s face glow like peaches, and it highlighted every feature Charlie had ever noticed before.

“You’re…really pretty, professor.”

The second after the words left his mouth. Charlie’s smile dropped. Severus stood there in stunned silence. He begged his pardon a third time, followed by an excuse and a hasty retreat to his dorms.

***

“It was the most embarrassing moment of my life!”

“Even more embarrassing than Quidditch tryouts when the bludger knocked you into the lake, and you came out without your pants?” Fred asked.

“First of all, that was hilarious,” Charlie snorted. “I wear that moment with pride.”

Bill walked into the common room, welcomed by his brothers’ laughter. The twins were seated close to the fireplace, and there were other boys with them of various ages. This was a common scene. People were drawn to Charlie; their attraction wasn’t based on artificial means as they were with Bill, either. Bill would have envied his brother’s effortlessness if he didn’t prefer his control method more. 

“What happened?” Bill asked as he adjusted his sleeves for his nightly “patrol.”

George grinned. “Charlie made a fool of himself in front of Snape. _Again_.”

Bill chuckled. “Yes, he does enjoy taking the piss out of us Gryffindors. I told you to study for potions. You’re going to be a target, so you might as well be hard to hit.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Charlie muttered. “And it didn’t happen in potions.”

Before Bill could ask, Charlie handed him a book. Bill’s eyes widened. He grabbed it at once.

“How did you get this?”

“I took it. Long story short, it got confiscated by professor Quirrell.” Charlie shook his head. “I went to Snape’s classroom to apologize and turns out he already got it back. Sorry, Bill.”

Bill did his best not to yell as he shoved the book in his cloak. “Don’t take my things, Charlie,” he warned. “Especially not these books.” These were gifts given to him by Severus. These were things the two of them could enjoy in secret, and Bill wasn’t going to let anyone interfere—not even his fucking brother.

Charlie was so beaten down; he didn’t hear the threat in his brother’s voice. “Snape told me to sneak it back to your room before you found out.”

Bill frowned. “Why didn’t you?” Charlie certainly had enough time while he was bathing.

Charlie glared at the twins, who were sniggering on the floor, proud of having thwarted Charlie’s attempt. “These jokers caught me. They promised not to tell, but you know I’m not one for keeping debts. Figured I get the scalding done over with.”

It took everything in Bill’s power not to break character. Favorite brother or not, Bill wanted to teach his brother the brutal lesson of possession.

Unfortunately, there were far too many witnesses.

“Don’t worry,” Bill dismissed. He kept his tone light, forgiving, and though the other students expressed their disappointment by the lack of punishment, Charlie wasn’t convinced. His younger brother winced, knowing more was to come. Charlie should be worried. “How many points did Professor Snape take for this indiscretion?” Bill asked.

“Uh, none.”

“What?” Bill stopped and stared at his brother. “He didn’t take off any points?”

“Probably felt bad for him. Even Snape’s human.” Another round of thunderous laughter rose from the other boys. This time, it came primarily from Charlie’s year. His brother turned red as the Weasley’s trademark hair, and in response, the seeker threw a pillow at the loudest jester. Bill didn’t know what was going on, but the second he heard Severus’ name, he was out for blood. The Head Boy almost grabbed his brother by the collar to shake him for an answer. Instead, he waited. He waited like a serpent waiting for a hen to hatch, but he was ready to lunge.

Charlie shook his head in embarrassment. “He helped me earlier with an injury—”

“What?”

“It was nothing,” Charlie clarified. “Just a few bruises, so I thought it was okay to make a joke.” Charlie sunk his face into his hands. “It was not okay.”

“What did you say?”

“Ooh, can we tell him?” George asked eagerly, jumping on their heels to do so.

“Yeah, can we?” Fred repeated, practically bouncing.

Charlie flipped them the two-fingered salute. He turned to Bill. “I kind of…called him ‘pretty.’”

Bill’s blood boiled. “Pretty? You called Professor Snape ‘pretty?’”

The whole room erupted into laughter, followed by far less friendly jeers of blindness and delusion. Bill didn’t know what he hated more—these boys not appreciating what they got to experience every day or the fact that his _fucking brother did_.

“I didn’t mean it,” Charlie justified.

“Oh?” Bill tightened his fist. He could forgive his brother for his trespass if he just explained that he wasn’t in his right mind. Maybe he waited in the dungeons for too long and whiffed one too many fumes.

“I mean, I did.”

Bill considered bashing his brother’s head against the table.

“But pretty in a flower way, not in a—”

“‘I want to shag you on the staircase,’ way,” one of Charlie’s friends supplied helpfully.

The wand in Bill’s pocket was itching to be held. Instead, the Head Boy warned them of wondering ears. When they laughed at his concern, Bill reminded them that though Slytherins were not allowed in the dorms, the same rules do not apply to House Heads.

“Let’s hope Professor Snape is not in league with any knights,” Bill suggested as he gestured to some of the soldiers running amuck in the paintings above. The vicious pleasure Bill felt when they started to sweat did wonders to his mood.

It did little, however, to rid Bill of his spite.

***

Bill Weasley came to Severus’ chambers with his book in hand and a smile gracing his lips.

One did not have to be a legilimens to know something was wrong. The younger man took off his robes to reveal a black button-up Severus once called decent and was now his favorite shirt to wear when he wanted Severus heated. He started unbuttoning his collar.

Severus took a step back.

“What’s wrong?” Bill asked. He looked up just when Severus started retreating.

Severus left heel was still in the air. He planted it firmly on the ground and looked at Bill in the eyes. “Nothing.”

Bill didn’t seem happy with that answer either. His response was to push Severus against the wall and kiss him. Severus gasped and kissed back at once. Their lips moved relentlessly as their bodies moved to another spot in the house. Bill grabbed Severus’ ass, while Severus kept a firm grip on the back of his neck. Severus’ nails traveled down his lover’s back, and they weren’t gentle. Bill hissed through his kisses.

“Did you like it?” Bill forced his tongue into Severus’ mouth before he could answer. Severus moaned as he struggled to breathe. Bill moved them against the bedroom door. Severus had never been more grateful for having the foresight to close it before he let Bill in.

“What?” Severus breathed out.

Bill kissed him again. Severus would have been more irritated if it didn’t feel so good to have him inside his mouth. When Bill parted the second time, Severus didn’t have time to breathe. Bill grabbed Severus’ throat in his hand.

Severus gasped.

“Did you like it when my brother call you pretty?”

Shit, Severus swore. Bill looked ready to kill, and his target wasn’t Severus, but there was no telling what he was capable of. The younger man pushed Severus further against the door. He looked down on Severus, waiting for an answer. The threat on Severus’ neck hadn’t been removed. The Slytherin knew he should have played this smarter, but the air was thinning, and he couldn’t think straight.

“That’s none of your business,” Severus breathed out. Lily, in their younger years, used to say he had pride that brought a Gryffindor to shame.

“That’s a yes.” Bill tightened his grip. “Merlin, I knew I should have kept a better eye on you. I knew this shit would happen,” he muttered angrily, mostly to himself. He turned his cold gaze onto Severus. “I just thought you’d have the decency not to seduce _my brother_.” 

“I didn’t seduce anyone,” Severus snapped. He coughed, the grip on him was relentless. “I helped him. He’s my student. I am allowed to teach him.”

“I’m your student, too,” Bill reminded. His voice was low, and his anger burned through his touch. “Are you giving him the same sort of instruction as me? Does his tongue flick your clit raw like mine does? Is his cock fit in your hand the way mine doesn’t? Or is it his body?” Bill accused. “I know the men you like. Charlie’s strong. One look at him and someone like you knows exactly the sort of rough touch he can give.” 

“Someone like me?” Severus had enough. He pushed Bill off with all his strength. Bill relented after the second push. Severus slapped him hard against the face. Bill didn’t react. He waited for the next move. “Don’t act like I am the villain when it’s your kind who turned me into a fetish.”

“What are you talking about it?”

Severus glared. “I know what the wizarding world thinks about me.” At least, now he did once Bill and Severus’ fellow faculty shined a light on what was willfully ignored for so long. All the minor kindnesses in his life, from Lucius to his pureblood boys in his class, now felt dirty. “Muggle-raised, and the child of a witch who went feral for some cock. You’re only interested in me so you can fuck me.”

Shame briefly passed Bill’s face. He recovered faster than Severus did.

“I could say the same about you,” Bill accused. “It’s no secret you used to be a Death Eater. I bet it feels good to finally get a pureblood's attention, after worshipping that cunt for so long.”

Severus felt like he’d been slapped in the face. “Don’t you dare say that!"

Bill forced him against the door again. He slammed both hands against the side of Severus’ head. Severus winced.

“I bet it makes you feel good. To have a few purebloods wrapped around your finger, panting over your ass like bitches in heat. Make up for all the lost time you could have been spreading your legs for a fucking gallon—”

Severus’ magic spiraled. He’d seen his mother do it several times during her worst fights with his father, and the latter had already locked up her wand. Severus watched the bolt of energy pierced through Bill’s chest and shoved him onto the living room. Severus watched with relief when Bill started heaving spittle and air.

Spontaneous magic was not particularly powerful. It was a defense mechanism, not an offensive gesture. Bill recovered, getting up with a dry laugh. The sound brought shivers up Severus’ spine.

“I get it,” Severus heard Bill say. “You want me to feel like shit up until the point I shut you up.”

Severus couldn’t react when Bill charged at him. He used his magic to open up the door to Severus’ bedroom, and the lack of control splintered the frame. Severus whimpered when he felt the shards embedded into his skin.

The young man dragged him to his bed. Severus fought him off, tooth and nail. He scratched his face—a face he adored so dearly and clawed at his arms. Bill disabled him easily with his strength.

“I fucking want you,” Bill confessed as he fought Severus’ attempts at escape. “I want you. I want you so badly.” His hand latched onto Severus’ throat again. He loved that neck—so pale and breakable, as Lucius once told him. Severus kept on fighting. He’d seen what happened when someone stopped fighting.

“I want to lick you until you’re sore and sheath myself inside you until your cunt is shaped around my cock,” Bill declared. He went into a soliloquy about the filth Severus would endure in his hands. For every sweet utterance was a declaration of abuse and violence, and such pure, utter passion, Severus could feel his willpower disappearing. “I need to have you. Let me have you.”

Severus didn’t know what came over him. He should have allowed Bill this victory if nothing else than to live for another day. He could survive now and plan his retribution later. Instead, Severus latched onto Bill’s chest and tried to force his weak, wandless magic to burn him.

Bill didn’t take the gesture lightly. He squeezed Severus’ neck, and it held none of the threat from earlier. Bill was choking him. He was constricting his airways, so not a single drop of air could come in. Severus’ face twisted as he arched his head back and choked. His mouth hung open and breathless, and though he struggled a little bit, he wasn’t to remove Bill’s hands around his neck. His hands dropped to the side, his body shook and trembled as Bill kept his grip on him.

“Fuck!” Bill swore. “Fuck Severus, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I….”

Severus couldn’t hear the rest. All at once, the air came back to Severus. When released, Severus gasped desperately for the air pouring into his lungs. It tasted delicious. The professor toppled over his bed to focus completely on breathing. His body was shaking.

When Severus finally gained his wits, he heard the wall being punched. The door slam on his way out. 

Bill didn’t say goodbye to him.

Severus moved his hand to feel his neck. It felt hot and sore. There would no doubt be bruising tomorrow. Thankfully it was the weekend, and Severus wouldn’t have to deal with his peers’ prodding. The Potions Master curled up into his bed and coughed until he could breathe lying down again, slumping against his too hard pillows with a pale face. His entire body felt uncomfortable, but between his top and bottom, he’d say his bottom had it worse. His cunt was dripping wet, having spasmed right when Bill released him from his grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was astonishingly easy to write. I don't know why. It just flowed out, and I'm really satisfied with it.
> 
> So I have gotten some concerns from readers whether this is going to have a love triangle. I'm going to say...technically no. But it depends on your definition of a love triangle. Are other people going to be attracted to either Severus or Bill? Yes. Will either Severus or Bill be attracted to anyone else besides each other. No. Every suitor serves a purpose, much like how Charlie acted as a catalyst for Bill's jealousy, but Severus doesn't actually want Charlie and would never even consider choosing Charlie (or someone else, hint hint for future chapters) over Bill. 
> 
> Does that make sense? I hope it does. :)


	10. Chapter 10

For their date, Bill asked Severus to meet at an inn outside of Hogsmeade. The location was easy enough to apparate, but it required two trips. One to Hogsmeade, and another to the end of the village so that Severus was in proximity for his magic to work. Despite his annoyance, Severus knew the selection was sound. They couldn’t meet at Hogwarts, and they couldn’t risk someone seeing them together at any of the various village shops. Severus already spotted three colleagues outside a pub’s window, and countless other students swarming the blocks. It was either leave or don't go anywhere at all.

Severus considered the second option deeply. Last night was a reminder of how far Bill could go when left unchecked. He touched his neck. The marks were noticeable by the morning and went from a blistering red to dark blue bruises. His shirt covered the injuries, but he could still feel them pulsing underneath the fabric. It felt like a collar, and in his delirium suspected Bill spelled an invisible leash on it and was yanking Severus’ body towards the inn. Severus didn’t feel like his body was his own anymore; he woke up with the heaviness of a ghost on his chest, and for a moment believed he was possessed.

At least he still had his mind, Severus thought.

Severus entered the Inn. The location had a sordid reputation. As a student, he heard of a tavern located outside of Hogwarts where students and teachers met their lovers in secret. Their clandestine affairs protected by spells warding off intentions to snitch or tattle. No sunlight made its way into the room. A string of candles lined up along the wall and only illuminated the cloaked figures. Reporters like Rita Skeeter couldn't touch the doorknob, let alone get inside. Severus felt severely underdressed. His face was bare. People turned to him when he walked in, and if they were shocked or suspicious, Severus couldn’t tell because they were covered.

Severus’s face burned. Severus must have looked so foolish. His identity was on display to these degenerates. They could have recognized him. They probably already did. He was supposed to be smarter than this, given his history, but his past discretions were as acting as a double agent, and he’d been accustomed to hiding in plain sight.

Before he could turn his heel and run, one of the workers asked him what his business was at their inn. Severus hesitated; he looked around, and there was not an ounce of red in the vicinity. He wondered if Bill was one of the men hiding in the shadows but knew he would have approached his professor by now.

“I’m meeting someone,” Severus answered. He kept his tone cold. No detail, brief eye contact. Everything an experienced liar did when they didn’t want to draw suspicion.

The man looked at him, curiously.

“You here for the ginger?”

Severus startled.

“The tall one? He said to send the person looking for him to the back.” He explained there was a hallway that would lead him to an alley outside the inn.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “You’re just assuming I’m the one he’s waiting for?”

The man shrugged. “Most people who come here know what they’re looking for. You didn’t.”

Severus frowned, and then followed his instructions as given. When he went outside, there was no one there. For a second, Severus worried he was walking into a trap but assumed if anyone wanted to shake him down for a gallon, they would have done so already. Then, he wondered if this was a joke, and if that was the case, protection spells be damned, he was going to set the inn on fire.

Severus checked his pocket watch for the third time, and just as he snapped open the compartment, a hand covered his mouth and pulled him back. The wand in Severus’ hand rose in time for a spell, but not in time to cast it before the hand was removed and lips replaced it. Severus didn't kiss back. Saliva dripped down his chin until he finally responded. When they parted, Severus stayed still.

Bill look at him, more surprised than relieved to see him.

“You came,” Bill stated. 

Severus nodded. “I said I would.” He doesn’t know how he could sound so calm given last night’s events, but he was. He felt more scared of being caught at the Inn than of Bill’s behavior last night.

Bill grimaced. “How’s your neck?”

“It’s fine.” Severus remained cold. “I’ve been through worst,” he assured as his fingers brushed against his neck. He didn’t say it to make Bill feel better; he wanted to state a fact. Whatever Bill did to him was nothing he couldn’t handle, and it wasn’t something he was going to lord over Bill in spite.

Bill did not take too kindly to the response, looking down at his feet in a manner of self-loathing that Severus never cared for. When he looked up, it was to eye Severus’s turtleneck. “Can I see it?”

“No,” Severus denied there. 

"Is it that bad?" 

“It's a cold day," Severus responded in lieu of an answer.

Bill was still staring at his neck. His eyes flickered upward onto Severus’s, and then stayed there. “Do you still want to come? I won’t follow you.”

Severus stiffened. This was the first time Bill was offering him a way out, but instead of feeling relieved, Severus was insulted. He’d been refusing his student for weeks, only to have Bill’s infatuation strip him of his consent and dignity. He wasn’t going to let this _child_ dictate their end. “Don’t be stupid,” Severus snapped. “You’ve already dragged me here. Now, you’re going to waste my time? I should have slapped you harder last night.”

Bill smiled. It was strained. “And I shouldn’t have hurt you.”

Severus was taken back. He could feel Bill’s desire to reach forward. Severus prepared for the action and didn't flinch when Bill stroked his throat.Bill's hands were big. Severus knew it from last night, but he couldn't measure their approximate largeness until now; the professor was confident his student could wrap his fingers around his waist with his ease.

“I almost didn’t come. I wasn’t sure you’d forgiven me,” Bill confessed. His hands were so gentle, Severus shivered. He wondered what his student was playing at—was he trying to prove to the Slytherin that he was harmless, or was he reinforcing the reminder that his strength was superior? Either way, Severus wasn’t going to beat the bush on fire. 

“I didn’t,” Severus told him. “But it happened. Nothing can change that.” Truthfully, Severus was surprised by how easily the words flowed out of his mouth. It tasted like gold. For a long time, Severus lived in the past. There was a hidden comfort in the pain of never forgetting. Bill had been an unknown variable, and the uncertainty of whether Bill’s bright future could enlighten, or burn had eaten away at Severus’ nerves. Now, things were different. Bill was dangerous; he was trouble, but as frightening as his behavior was, Severus found relief in his violent familiarity.

There was silence. Suddenly, Bill softly smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. Bill’s hand dropped and he moved beside Severus to wrap his arm around his professor’s waist. He led the older man to a spot in the alley where a cracked, albeit clean mug sat on top of a table. Severus figured it was a Portkey.

“Where are we going?” Severus asked.

“London.” Bill grinned, before touching the cup. Severus was immediately pulled into the swirling tunnel of blistering lights and high speed and dragged through the continuum of time and space in the most nauseating and giddy manner. It wasn’t his least favorite form of travel—broomsticks took that title—but no one enjoyed traveling through portkeys. At least, Severus mastered the art of fielding, because he managed to cast a soft-landing spell before he hit the ground. Bill followed suit, and they floated onto the concrete that would have otherwise caused a concussion.

"Are you alright?" Bill asked when they arrived. 

His hand was still on Severus’s waist. Severus removed himself and responded he was fine. They both walked out of the alleyway from where they landed.

London was a legilimens’ nightmare. Severus never had any fond memories visiting; the air was coated with gas clouds and dust storms, the traffic was long and the cars plentiful, and there was never any sense of peace or decency within the crowds. He hated the colors, the kaleidoscope of blue and yellow petticoats, the cracked cement that could tunnel an old man to his death or faceplant a child. He hated the yelling, the honking, the tinkling, the darting, and how so much screaming swarmed into his head.

Severus winced as another screech pierced his defenses.

“What's wrong?” 

Severus grimaced. “London is loud,” Severus answered. He raised his mental defenses to avoid more unsolicited thoughts.

“Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had a whole day planned?”

“Plans can change.” Bill shrugged. “There’s only one place I want to take you, and the dinner reservation, but that won’t be until later. We can go wherever you want before then.”

Severus took a look at his surroundings. The crowd flowed over the streets, and the brown fog of winter dawn was already infesting the autumn trees, darkening the atmosphere by several shades.

“No,” Severus told him. He wasn’t familiar with the area, and anywhere he apparated would be a bore or a horror show. He had no intention of attending either. “You dragged me here. It’s your job to entertain me.”

Bill smiled and shook his head. “I’ll try my best.” Bill tried to hold his hand, but Severus took it away. The muggle world was different from the wizarding world, and he’d heard enough ‘nancy boy’ comments from his father to understand why holding hands would not be the wisest thing to do. He explained this to Bill, who frowned, but didn’t fight his aversion. Severus didn’t know if he was agreeing because he understood, or because he reasoned it was better not to rock the boat.

The two stopped by a sundry shop. Bill asked if it was alright if he bought a pack of cigarettes, and Severus agreed as his stomach made a soft rumble.

“When are we eating?”

“Seven,” Bill said as he made the first step up the miniature stairs.

Severus frowned and walked into the shop with him. Bill went to the front to buy his smokes. Severus ran his eyes across the candies in the snack aisle. He never ate much sweets as a child, and as an adult, he avoided sugar out of distaste. Severus wondered if that would be the case if he lived in the city; there were more options in London’s corner stores than those in the supermarkets of Cokeworth. The rows read of Maltesers and Munchies, Turkish Delights, variant caramel and milk chocolate Cadbury bars, Smarties, Extras, and Treets. When Lily heard of his deprivation, she offered her weekly share of sweets, but Severus always refused. He didn’t like pity, and he told her he preferred nutrition over any syrupy substance.

“You want anything?” He heard Bill ask. Severus poked his head out of the aisle to see Bill at the register with a box of cigarettes resting on the counter. Severus raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it. He glanced back at the aisle, paused, and grab a box of peppermint creams. He didn’t say anything as he put them on the counter. Severus went to grab his wallet, but Bill beat him to the punch with a twenty-pound note. He thanked the man and got out.

Bill lit the cigarette when they got out of the store. He used a match, much to Severus’ surprise, but he soon forgot about it when he smelled the smoke. The stench was a familiar, rancid burn of cheap tobacco and old tar. He glanced over to the pack in Bill's pocket. Severus frowned when he saw the name. 

“Is the smell bothering you?” Bill asked, when he noticed Severus staring.

“No,” Severus said immediately.

Bill took the cigarette out of his mouth. He dusted off the ash.

“No,” Severus repeated. “Is that the normal brand you smoke?”

Bill shrugged. “They didn’t have the brand I like. This one was the cheapest.”

“I know.” Severus didn’t think when he explained, “My father smoked the same brand.”

Bill stared at him. For a second, Severus thought he was going to push for more answers, but instead, he put out his cigarette on the ground and walked without saying another word. Bill was leading the way, so Severus had no choice but to follow if he didn’t want to get lost. Bill was by far the biggest anomaly Severus ever encountered. He blended easily into the streets with his plain trousers and white shirt, pulled out money like a muggle, spoke with their colloquialisms, and never gave so much as a minor indication he wasn't one of them. Severus was one of them, and he could never move so seamlessly in the crowd.

"You're a pureblood," Severus pointed out. 

Bill raised an eyebrow. He looked amused. "Yes. I know." 

“Where did you get muggle money?”

“I converted it the last time I was at the bank,” Bill told him. “I’ve visited the muggle world often enough.”

“Through the portkey you made?” Severus asked. The creation of a portkey, especially an unauthorized one, was an illegal act punishable by a tremendous fine, and up to five years in Azkaban. The Ministry of Magic set up a Trace whenever the ritual was performed. Unfortunately for the Ministry, any wizard who could cast the incantation properly was the sort of wizard who could master a cloaking spell to hide their transgression. Severus had made three portkeys in his life. The first to see if he could, and the last two for the war. Making them was far more entertaining than using them, which felt like a hook dragging your insides by the navel.

Bill smiled at him. “Through Professor Flitwick’s chimney, and I usually use floo powder to travel. He doesn’t like the hassle of traveling to the muggle world—lots of spells and precautions—but muggle stores sometimes sell supplies at a better price. So, he sends me, and I go,” Bill explained. “And I didn’t make the portkey,” Bill added before Severus could ask. “The Inn has several available for their patrons. All you have to do is rent a room.”

Severus stopped in his tracks. Bill, who’d already been walking ahead, stopped and turned around. “What’s the matter, Severus?” Bill asked, with a smile on his face.

Severus stood where he was because he didn’t know how to respond. The whole day felt like a test of silence, and any answer would be the wrong one. Bill didn’t like being the villain, but no hero would do what he did last night, and Severus hated playing the fool, but how could he act thoughtfully when his heart controlled his body? He stared at Bill, hoping the man would be the one to break. Instead, Bill smiled and stared back. He waited for Severus to respond, maybe to fail the test or pass it by forgetting all the terrible things they’ve done to each other. Bill could even cheat and lie about all the ways they would change in the future. Severus wouldn’t believe him, but he’d been proven wrong so many times before, that he’d hope his errors would work in his favor for once.

“Nothing,” Severus answered. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“To a show,” Bill answered. The two continued to walk down the street. “It’s at a club, so we can get a drink while we wait. Talk a bit.”

“You want to talk?” Severus asked, unrepentantly snide.

“I want to get to know you.”

“That would be a first.”

Bill stopped in his tracks. “Severus?”

Severus looked back.

“I…” Bill began.

Severus waited for him to say something. It was the most patient he’d been with any of his students, and he’d never gave so much time for a Gryffindor to answer. But as soon as his mouth opened, Bill clamped it shut. He walked ahead of Severus again and told him to follow because they’d miss a good table. Severus bit his lower lip to keep from screaming. The hypocrisy was ripe on his skin, and Bill never failed to pick the forbidden fruit, no matter the consequences. It didn’t matter how upset Severus would get; Bill wouldn’t hesitate to express his frustration if Severus did. Bill didn’t like to be wrong, and Severus hated to lose. If his professor said nothing, then Bill didn’t have to either.

The two walked to the club without saying another word to each other, and it was the most deafening sound Severus ever heard.

***

There were wizarding hotspots scattered all over the muggle world, often hidden in plain sight—dingey corner shops and unimposing clubs. Bill took Severus to the latter. They arrived at the door, and Bill recited a password which caused a large, potentially orcish mixed of a man to open up for them. The inside differed drastically from the dark doorway that blended in with the wearing stone walls. The pub resembled a speakeasy from the 1920s, and while dark, was lit up by candles and decorative lights from antique lamps and chandeliers. The walls were crowded and framed by photographs of celebrity clients who frequented the locations, all laughing and drinking, and seemed to be having a good time. They greeted Severus and Bill as they walked down the halls and into the restaurant, which was a cross between a high-end restaurant and a middle-class living room. There was an empty stage in the front. When they arrived at the room’s entrance, the hostess greeted them. She was stunning—long, silvery hair and violet eyes that seemed more flower than pupil.

“William Weasley,” Bill told her. She smiled at him, almost dreamily. Severus could see her approval, and even the most devoted of men would be flattered by a veela’s affections. 

Veelas, Severus thought, annoyed.

The hostess checked off their name and sat them down at their table—in the center but far enough in the back that they wouldn’t get caught under the light. Severus wondered if their seating was due to a special request on Bill’s behalf, or fortuitous luck, but he didn’t bother to ask. Bill lit his second cigarette of the night. They didn’t speak until the waiter came, and Bill ordered a whiskey, while Severus requested a red wine.

When the waitress walked away, the table returned to silence. 

“We can’t keep doing this.”

Severus turned to Bill. For a second, he waited for Bill to continue, only to find Bill staring back at him, surprised.

Oh, Severus thought. The words came out of _his_ mouth. 

At first, Bill tried to respond, but Severus found that he preferred the sound of his voice to Bill’s and continued to speak with the godforsaken authority he was not given. 

“Last night happened, Bill. We can choose not to talk about it, pretend it was a dream we hope never returns, but it won’t work. I won’t forget what happened, because I don’t forget the people who’ve hurt me.”

“I…”

“I don’t cry over them, either.” Severus stewed; he seethed, and sometimes, he fought, but he never cried over those who made him suffer. It was a vow he made as a child, and he only broke it once. Crying never did a man any favors. “You’ve made it clear that this isn’t something I can walk away from.”

“I—”

“Look me in the eye,” Severus commanded. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’ll let me go. That if I left you here, we can return to being a teacher and student on Monday. There would be no hard feelings, and you won’t move the earth to get me back.”

Bill grimaced. He looked away. Severus could see his fist tightened on the table. 

The Potion Master looked back at his hands. “If we can’t ignore it, and we can’t forget, we need to beat this matter until it’s dead and gone. Otherwise, we'll live with this haunting until we’re dragged to hell. I won’t let that happen to me.” Not again, Severus thought. He swore never to let a man have such a hold on him ever again. 

“I thought you weren’t in the business of forgiveness,” Bill managed to get out before Severus could continue.

“I am not,” Severus replied. “This isn’t about forgiveness.” His fingers brushed against his neck. “This is about dealing with a problem, one that is taking a toll on both of us.”

The waitress came back with their drinks. Bill thanked her. After she sat them down, the lights began to dim, indicating that the show was about to start. Severus sighed. He expected he wouldn’t be paying attention, but he turned to the stage regardless. Bill retook his focus when he told Severus he was sorry, but he couldn’t apologize.

“Because it would change nothing if I did,” Bill confessed. He leaned back into his seat. He was more relaxed now that the matter was out in the open. The mannerism was welcoming, in a strange way, because this was Bill’s norm. He wasn’t cold around Severus, and he never bothered with a pretense. He wanted Severus so much; he didn’t have the strength to defend when he pursued his professor. It was flattering and damning. “Apologies are supposed to predate action. But I don’t plan on changing, so there’s no point in saying sorry. Those are empty words. ‘I’m sorry for bumping into you’ means you’ll be careful where you walk. ‘I’m sorry for borrowing your book without permission’ means you won’t do it again. I could give you a thousand apologies, but those are condolences. It’ll just be a lie." 

“It won’t mean anything,” Severus surmised easily. 

“No.” Bill looked into his eyes. “I want to treasure you, Severus, but I can’t stop this darkness in me.”

“You won’t try?” Severus wasn’t disappointed or angry. He wanted to understand.

“I have tried. I’ve tried for five years.”

Severus said nothing. His body burned as Bill spoke.

“I can’t control myself. A decent man would harm themselves to change, and a good man would leave, but I am neither. I’d rather hurt you than leave you.”

All the lights went out except for the ones directing their eyes to the stage. The presenter announced their performer, a poet, and Severus would have had to hide his smile if not for their dire situation. Someone walked up. Everyone clapped vigorously. Severus wanted to concentrate on the show, but all he could hear was Bill’s final message.

“You cast a curse on me, Severus,” Bill explained. “My wickedness will only end when it ends me.” 

The declaration, which would be romantic to some and frightening to others, only resurfaced Severus’ irritation. What could the professor say to such a proclamation? The juxtaposition in Bill’s words was a double-edged sword. His student wouldn’t leave him alone. If he wanted him gone, Severus would have to destroy him—and this was possible. Severus’s magic surpassed Bill’s by far. But this wasn’t an option in itself. Severus laid a finger on Bill’s head, and they were doomed in the process. Bill was giving him permission to do the impossible. It was an act of self-destruction that only a mad man in love would make.

The man on stage began to speak, “_He did not die, __and yet nothing of life remains_.” If Severus wanted to respond, the sound of their performer would not have stopped him. “_He shall emerge exhausted from the terrible rigors of insomnia_…”

But Severus didn’t want to say anything. At first, he listened to the performance with an inept ear stuffed by the ramblings of his thoughts. Those whispers were lulled into a slumber as the poet continued to speak about the sickening stench of the “stagnant eons.” The man’s despair was riveting. For a moment, Severus could see the falling towers of opulence crumble in front of him, and the clouds of corruption fall. Severus wondered if the man was casting a spell, or if his words were simply moving enough to be one because Severus found his eyes drawn to Bill while his ears remained alert. When the man’s poem came to a dramatic finish, Severus couldn’t tear his eyes away from his lover.

“…_He shall end by coming to his knees before the darkness, the death, and the distance_.”

Severus shivered as the applause broke out, signaling the end. The poet gave a single line of thanks before announcing his second poem. He declared it was dedicated to all the lovers in the world.

“I do like this one,” Bill said softly. “It’s my favorite.”

Severus would soon find that it was his as well.

“_I wanna be your vacuum cleaner. Breathing in your dust. I wanna be your Ford Cortina…I will never rust. If you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot. You call the shots. I wanna be yours_…”

Severus’ eyes were still on Bill’s when the performer said the first line and remained there the entire time. Bill was exceptionally handsome tonight, Severus thought. The older man decided if he could say nothing, then he had only one course of action left. He placed his hand on the front of Bill’s pants and pulled his zipper down. Severus turned his attention back to the stage.

Bill’s head snapped at Severus.

“What are you doing?” Bill whispered. 

_“I wanna be your raincoat for those frequent rainy days. I wanna be your dreamboat when you want to sail away…”_

Severus didn’t reply. He didn’t even look at him, more out of spite than anything. Bill caught his attention too many times today. He wasn’t getting it again. Severus’s fingers dipped under the waistband of Bill’s pants. Bill’s muscles were useless after this. His thighs parted in defeat, his shoulders tensed to avoid falling back into the seat as the slender fingers wrapped around his dick. His tip was leaking, and the scrape of Severus’s palms made Bill arched his hips in pleasure.

_“Let me be your teddy bear. Take me with you anywhere. I don’t care…I wanna be yours…”_

Severus was a man of thought. Each stroke was calculated and firm; Bill was melting under his touch. The younger man trembled and groaned as tried to thrust against the motions. Severus gave him little room to chase after the pleasure he sought so desperately—at least, not without causing a scene. It wasn’t anything like the boys or girls at school who rushed themselves; desperate and clumsy to experience something new and fun. This was intense. This was passion and lust and power. This was more than just sexual escapade; This was real for Severus and Bill.

“Severus…”

“Shh,” Severus scolded. “Don’t talk. Just feel me.”

_“I wanna be your electric meter I will not run out. I wanna be the electric heater you’ll get cold without…”_

Now that his words have failed him, Bill widened his thighs to give Severus’s further access to explore. Severus continued to jerk him off without looking at him. When he was satisfied by Bill’s frustration, the older man rolled his finger over the underside of Bill’s sensitive tip. It caused Bill to make an obscene, stuttered groan. He was far too close to the edge to ask Severus to stop and rocked against the rhythm perfected on his dick.

_“I wanna be your setting lotion. Hold your hair in deep devotion. Deep as the deep Atlantic ocean, that’s how deep is my devotion…” _

Bill’s hips thrust up without restraint as he finally lost control of his senses. His orgasm was intense, blinding, as the white spots filled his vision. His eyes closed tight as Severus continued to jerk off whatever was left in his cock. It was painfully arousing, and yet Bill couldn’t muster the strength to ask him to stop. His thighs jerked from the spasm. The student wanted to fall back against his seat and expressed his satisfaction through a loud, obscene moan, but stayed upright and quiet to maintain the “decency.”

“_I wanna be yours_…”

Bill and Severus wanted nothing more than to have that line come to life. Severus removed his hand and used his napkin to clean his palm up. To Bill’s surprise, he moved the cloth to his student’s lap and wiped away the stains. He then zipped his pants up.

Bill stared at him. He was the speechless one now.

“You’re brilliant,” Bill whispered at him. Severus turned around to face him and they kissed. No one was paying attention to them. Severus’s free hand clutched to Bill’s and pulled him close so that their kiss could deepen. No one cared, either immersed with the man on the stage or with their lovers. Severus and Bill kept kissing until the third poem was finished, and the poet left the audience to their pleasures. Their drinks were left untouched. People were leaving. When they parted, Bill was breathless, and Severus could only make one demand.

“I want you to fuck me,” Severus confessed.

Bill couldn't respond. 

"I want you to fuck me," he said again. 

What happened next was a blur. Severus only remembered Bill’s wide eyes as he was dragged out of the club and thrown against the nearest wall for another kiss. Lusty pants were hot against Severus’s neck as Bill ripped open the fabric for access to the delicate, pale skin. The younger man didn’t head the blue bruises he created the night before. He didn’t think about anything but the need to anchor himself into Severus’s flesh by pressing his teeth into the soft skin. The potion master’s pained moan did nothing to stop him, as the tempo increased with each swipe of his tongue against the broken skin. Sweat formed between their bodies. Both of them were pulling the fabrics off each other. Severus squirmed against the larger man. He wanted to feel him bare, flesh to flesh. Bill acted like he was out of his mind and shoved his knee underneath Severus’s cunt. His rutted against Severus’s hole and the rocking motions felt vengeful in their roughness.

Severus loved it all the same.

“Yes,” Severus moaned. “Yes, Bill, yes… fuck me…”

Bill would have done anything to comply. But as Severus’s hands moved under his shirt, and Bill’s fingers gripped his ass, the two were interrupted by loud jeers from the streets calling them “Nancy boys.” 

“Fucking poofs!”

Bill turned around, more enraged about the interruption than the actual slurs being tossed at them. Severus looked at the gang of chavs, mocking them for their affection. Before he could respond, Bill went up to them and pushed them out of the way.

“What the hell is your problem?” Bill growled. The other male, maybe around Bill’s age, was surprised by Bill’s aggression. Perhaps he thought a pair of poofs wouldn’t be willing to fight back, or perhaps he thought if he did, it wouldn’t be with someone like Bill—who, albeit lithe, was still muscular enough to hold his own in a fight. The chav tried to respond with another shove, only to feel the force of it tenfold. Bill pushed him hard enough to knock him into the arms of another friend. They looked angry at this point. Severus was worried a fight would break out, and despite the size difference, five against two wouldn’t look well for them. They could use magic, but that would only cause another disaster.

“Bill,” Severus hissed. He grabbed his student’s arm. “Let’s go. It’s not worth it.”

“Aw, is the little Nancy boy afraid?” One of them mocked. “What? You only like it rough when you’re taking it up your hole?”

Bill tried to go again, and Severus held him back. “Bill, stop. We need to go.” In his ear, Severus whispered. “If any of them has a weapon, we’ll be forced to use magic. We can’t risk getting caught.”

“God, he’s pretty. What you couldn’t get a girl, so you decided to stick your cock in this tranny?”

Severus swore. Bill became still. Before he could beg Bill to stand down, his lover promised him he’d be good.

“I won’t use magic on them,” Bill lied. He walked away from Severus to confront the leader of the group.

The boy made another comment about not listening to his “bitch,” but as he said so, Bill grabbed him by the neck and whispered an incantation under his breath. The boy’s screams of agony had Severus wincing. He pulled his hands away and laughed as he shook off the smoke. Severus stared in horror as the boy clutched his head as his skin bubbled and popped before him. The other members were too shocked to retaliate. They checked on their friend as he continued to cry about his pulsing, boiling skin.

Severus had no choice to act. It wouldn’t be long before their attention returned to them. Severus grabbed Bill’s hands, his laughter light but still vicious as he dragged him to the nearest empty area. He heard footsteps running after them, but Severus didn’t look back with Bill’s hand in his. There was only one place to go from here, and without warning, Severus took them away with a single spell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is finally here! It's been a while. I'm sorry I haven't been motivated to write this story, but I am so grateful for the understanding and patience. Everyone has been really supportive and I appreciate that. I've had a lot of bad luck with harassment over not updating in the past and I'm so thankful everyone has been so kind about me finding other interests and life. 
> 
> With that being said, I have cut certain plot points out of the story and will have to reformat a few things. This was once a 39 chapter story and will now be 30 chapters (ATM - it may become shorter) because I felt like the storyline was unnecessary. (Hint: it was a pseudo-love triangle which I realized would just drag the story, convolute the plot, add no character development). 
> 
> Again, enjoy and be happy and safe. 
> 
> Note: Poet at the end was John Cooper Clarke. He's an English performance poet, and these two poems are "I Wanna Be Yours" and "Libera Me." He's one of my favorite poets out there. I recommend listening to his albums. He has a very dark voice, like a sexual Death.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, if there is a tag that should be there, but isn't, please inform me. I didn’t put an underage tag because in the UK, the age of consent is 16, and in the wizarding world, the age of majority is 17.  
Please leave me your thoughts, your questions or complaints. 
> 
> Here are my social media handles. If I plan on posting a chapter late, twitter will be your main source of finding out. Otherwise, I have a website for my original work. 
> 
> Twitter: [@sometimesimeow](https://twitter.com/sometimesimeow)  
Literary Website: [Murder at the Cathouse](http://www.murderatthecathouse.com)  



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